


Fortune and Glory

by NerdyAdjacent



Series: Alternate Universe Collection [6]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Bad guy roman, Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, M/M Sex, This got a little dark, Unexpected betrayal, m/m relationship, poor archaeological practices, treasure hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8580859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyAdjacent/pseuds/NerdyAdjacent
Summary: Dean Ambrose knows treasure hunting is a dirty business meant for low down scoundrels like him. Plus, he's pretty damn good at it. When the location of the lost city of gold falls into his lap, he embarks on a mission to find it before his ex-lover does. Can he and his best friend and partner, Roman, get there first? Or will Seth Rollins stand in his way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *sigh* wasn't gonna do it this fast, but here it is. Thank you so much for reading! These AUs are getting out of hand haha! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> This chapter is HEAVILY influenced by Raiders of the Lost Ark.

He hates the jungle. It's hot, it's humid, and everything within a three foot radius can probably kill you - including the man in front of him acting as his guide. Maybe it wasn't the wisest move to hire an ex-marine who was dishonorably discharged for being “too violent” and who calls himself The Viper as the only thing standing between you and winding up on the missing persons list, but the price was right and he was assured that this man had been on this expedition before. Maybe he knew what important artifact was rumored to be there, maybe he didn't, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

“What was your name again, man?” The Viper asks, sneaking a look back at him in a way that sent alarm bells ringing for sure. 

But he took it in stride - and also adjusted the handgun in the holster at his hip because he wasn't stupid, either. One of the best pieces of advice he was ever given was to never give away anything that can be used against you later. That includes your name. So he lied, using the alias he'd given the man when he hired him. “Jon. Jon Moxley.”

The viper grins back at him and he knows his guide is wise to him. Former military? Of course the man knew he was using a fake name, but the name Dean Ambrose was pretty damn recognizable in these shady, back alley, treasure hunts to be given away lightly. So he just smiled back and the viper didn't push the matter. 

They push through the mass of trees and vines in silence from that point on, The viper awfully handy with that machete he was using to carve a path through the overgrowth. They emerge at a clearing and Dean almost falls over at the sight. The stone structure rising from the thick expanse of jungle like a silent giant was far larger than he had been expecting, even in its crumbling state of decay. For well over 2000 years old - provided the legend was true - it held up surprisingly well, virtually untouched for millennia. 

He approaches it carefully, almost reverently, and runs his fingertips along one of the moss covered carvings not touched by human hands since the place was abandoned. Yet, even with the vines and jungle trying to stake its claim on the stone, its grandeur and opulence were still evident. This was a place of worship, of fear, of beauty and wondrous technology well before it's time. 

“Beautiful.” He breathes and smiles up at the statue of a god snarling down at him from its perch.

“Eh, It's ok.” The viper says from behind him. He'd forgotten about the man already, so wrapped up in the beauty of this place. “Just a heap of rock if you ask me.”

Dean looks offended and gently pets one of the stone slabs as if to comfort some insult. “Don't worry, I think you're gorgeous.”

“What are you planning to do, Mr. Moxley?” The viper asks, arms crossed over his chest like he was trying to be nonchalant about it. He was _obviously_ fishing for information. 

Dean ignores him for the moment and drops his backpack to the ground before he digs around for a few seconds to come up with his iPad. Tapping the screen a few times, he brings up his notes and reads through them. He has to quickly close the screen when he feels the viper look over his shoulder, even if he does grin at him. “Do you know what this place is?” He asks and the viper shrugs.

“I told you, a pile of rock.”

“It's not a ‘pile of rock’.” He corrects and slings his backpack on again and sweeps his hand wide at the area. “ _This_ is a temple, a very old and very dangerous temple meant to inspire fear in its enemies. Thousands of human sacrifices took place here to honor the gods; gods the people believed would save them from famine and death and war.”

“Did they?”

“Well, being that most of those sacrificed were fallen enemies, no.” He answers with a shrug. “But that's not the point. The point is that this was a place to _fear_ the gods. Because the gods protected everyone...and everything...from outsiders.”

The viper rolls his eyes, obviously nowhere near as impressed as he should be, which makes Dean frown. There's just no talking to certain people. 

He motions for the viper to follow him as he approaches the heavy stone door. “Help me get this open.”

The two men pry open the heavy slab with strained effort, the structure not quite willing to give up its secrets just yet. They're both hit with a blast of stale air as it escapes the now open temple entrance, coughing at the smell of decay that came with it. There before them, in the dark, was a path that would almost certainly lead to the center of the mammoth structure. 

When the viper made a move to go in, Dean shot out a hand to stop him. “Do you really think a place meant to protect wouldn't _be_ protected? Haven't you ever seen Raiders, man?”

“Oh, come on!” The viper laughs. “That shit isn't real!”

Just to prove his point, Dean picks up a stone and tosses it into the dark of the hallway. There's the definite sound of machinery moving and a heavy snapping sound of a trap springing free. “You were saying?”

The viper clears his throat to hide his uneasiness and takes a step back. “After you.”

Dean smirks and shakes his head. Amature. 

He pulls a flashlight from his bag and flicks it on, shining the beam down the dark expanse of hallway, seeing now what trap had sprung in the dark. Walking to it carefully, he inspects the mechanism. It's pressure sensitive from the looks of it, releasing a web of sharpened tree branches in what could only be described as an ancient bear trap. It would have definitely done some damage had either of them stepped in the wrong place. Plus, he'd be willing to bet the tips of the wooden spikes were probably poison if the black tar msubstance on their ends was any indication. 

“Jesus.” The viper mumbles and scrubs a hand down his face.

Dean ignores him and shines his light further into the cavernous space before he slips past the deadly spikes carefully and continues, making sure to look at every wall and carving for any indication that they might be close to another trap. If there's one thing he's figured out in his years of doing this it's that ancient people trying to protect something are very creative when it comes to their boobytraps. 

They don't come across anymore, at least for now. The hallway opens up into a vast inner sanctuary complete with stone carvings of gods, warnings scrawled on every surface, and a heavily decorated staircase leading up into the temple center. On either side of the stairs, every three feet or so, is another statue meant to represent the stages of life, the very last at the top was where the priest would stand and make his sacrifice to stave off the god of death. Behind him, in the temple center, is exactly where he needs to be.

But he knows something that important wouldn't be left unguarded, even if the statues and warnings were meant to deter anyone looking to desecrate the sacred space. So he approaches the steps carefully and eyes the first two statues. They don't look like anything other than carved stone. 

“Are they rigged?” The viper asks, voice pretty shakes for an ex-marine. 

“I don't know.” Dean answers truthfully, then shines his light on his guide. “Why don't you go find out.”

“No way, man!”

With a grin he turns back to the stairs and carefully touches his toes to the first step. When nothing happens, he puts his whole food down. Still nothing. Maybe he was just being paranoid. However, when he steps up, that same mechanised sound starts up and he jumps back just in time to miss being hit by a swinging stone club.

“I found the trap!” He calls out to the viper, adrenaline making his heart beat loudly in his ears. He watches as the club continues to swing back and forth over the steps until it starts to lose power, coming to a stop between the two statues. 

He grabs a discarded stick of some sort and slips past the now still pendulum where he encountered the next set of statues. He presses the stick down on that stair and immediately the trap springs, another swinging club. He did the same with the third and fourth set of statues, grinning triumphantly when they reach the top of the stairs. 

“Christ.” The viper groans at his side, glaring down at the sprung traps behind them. 

“Yeah.” Dean adds, but he's looking at another stone statue. This one far more ornate than any they had seen previously with its golden staff and jewel encrusted crown. 

The viper must have just turned around and gasps at Dean's side. “Holy shit! One stone off that has gotta be worth millions!”

“Probably.” Dean says. “But don't touch it.”

“Why?”

“It's probably another trap.”

“You're seriously just going to leave this here?”

Dean nods and slips past the stone statue into the temple center behind it. He hears the viper grumble, but ignores him, he's got bigger fish to fry. 

The temple center is very simple compared to the structure surrounding it. Heavily carved stone gave way to smooth slabs of white sandstone and granite. It was beautiful in its simplicity, exquisite in every aspect imaginable. The stone seemed to glitter under the light of his flashlight and he found himself smiling at the beauty that surrounded him. 

In the center of the room, the only thing other than the stone, was a small stila, probably no bigger than three feet tall. On the front of the stila was a flat stone slab. That is what he was after. Carved in it was lines and markings all meant to represent a map. A map that would lead him to the greatest riches man would ever know. He could die fat and happy ten times over on a fraction of what was rumored to be there. A city made completely of gold. He runs his fingers over the carving and grins. He'd done it. 

He drops his backpack to the floor and digs for his parchment paper and a pencil. He lays the sheet of paper over the map and carefully runs the tip of the pencil over the stone until he'd made a transfer. 

Roman wasn't going to believe this shit when he got back to the plane. 

His thoughts were interrupted when a deep rumbling could be felt reverberating from the walls, the floor. The very air seemed to shake with it. That's when he realizes the viper isn't behind him. He stuffs the parchment into his bag, grabs his flashlight, and exits the temple center to find a very confused looking man looking around as the entire structure begins to crumble, in one hand is a knife, in the other is a diamond. 

Dean punches him in the arm. “I told you not to fucking touch it!”

“What do we do!?”

He's already heading down the steps before the viper even realizes what's going on. “Fucking run you idiot!”

He's barely made it down the steps when they start to collapse, making him jump the last 5 feet to the floor where he has to roll back to his feet. The viper is right behind him and they're sprinting down that great hallway. But everything has started to fall down around them, makes them climb over newly fallen rubble as the entire temple begins to collapse. Then he sees it, the exit, light! Little did he know there was one last trap waiting to spring free. He must have just missed stepping on it.

But the viper didn't. 

The trap springs loose and all he hears is the pained screams as heavy, poisoned stakes impale his legs and lower torso. 

“Fuck!” Dean yells and runs to him, trying to pull him free. The viper is begging dean not to leave him, to help him, but he knows there's no saving this man now. Even if he managed to get him loose, he'd either bleed out or die of sepsis before they makes it back to civilization. At this point, it was him or the viper. 

“I'm sorry!” He says and takes a few steps back. “I'm so sorry!”

Then he takes off running, ignoring the curses of the doomed man behind him. There was no saving him now.

As the temple comes down around him, dean has a brief moment of _I'm not going to make it_ panic and has to shove it down. He's so close he can feel the humid jungle air on his face as he climbs over another fallen stone. 

Just a little further! 

Just keep running!

Almost there!

He jumps free of the hallway in a final desperate leap just as the entrance collapses behind him, rolling until his backpack connects with a tree. He knew he wasn't out of the woods - so to speak- yet and immediately pulls himself to his feet. 

As the temple falls around him, the very earth he's standing on begins to shift, making running even harder than before. He's forced to leap and climb as the ground begins to swallow the ruins behind him. If he doesn't move faster, it would take him down with it! 

He doesn't stop running until he feels the earth begin to stabilize, and the shaking cease. When he looks back, there's nothing left but a pile of stone and the memory of the grandeur that used to stand there. 

He collapses back against a tree and slides down to the ground in a breathless heap, pulling in lungfuls of the heavy air as his adrenaline begins to wane. 

But he'd done it.

He was now the only person on the planet with a map to the lost city of gold. 

El Dorado.


	2. Chapter 2

“Where's the viper?” Roman asks, leaning against the side of the prop plane when Dean finally makes his way out of the jungle and into the clearing. Roman has a little amused smirk on his face, taking in his partner's appearance like only he could. “And what happened to you?”

He knew he probably looked like a train wreck right now because he fucking felt like one. Every muscle hurt, he knew his face and exposed arms were probably covered in cuts and bruises, his jeans were torn and bloody in certain spots, and his previously white tank top was a sickly shade of yellow brown from dirt and sweat. So, yeah, he looked about the same as how he felt and Roman only laughs at the glare he's being given. “Don't ask.”

“What about your guide?” Roman asks then mocks their conversation from 24 hours ago. “ _He'll be fine, ro! Trust me!_ ”

“He _was_ fine.” Dean grumbles and threw his backpack into the plane and sits on the running board to catch his breath. 

Roman eyes him. “If he was fine, where is he?”

He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to recalibrate his tired brain. “Dead.”

“Excuse me?”

“Boobytraps, Ro.” He elaborates, tired. “I warned him. He didn't want to listen. Collapsed the entire fucking temple around us. I barely made it out.”

“So that's what that noise was.” Says Roman, annoyingly nonchalant considering the fact Dean just told him he was almost crushed to death thanks to that idiot. 

“I just told you I almost died and all you can say is ‘so that's what that noise was’?”

Roman claps him on the shoulder and looks down at him with mock sympathy. “I'm sorry, Dean. Should I throw you a pity party?”

He shrugs him off. “Fuck you, man.” 

“Did you at least get what you went there for?” Roman asks with a hearty chuckle. 

That's when Dean grins at him and digs in his backpack to produce his pencil transfer and hands it to Roman. “You bet your ass I did.”

He looks shocked, but Dean can see he's impressed; not an easy feat where the big dog is concerned. “Are you serious?”

“You shoulda seen it, Ro!” Dean laughs, excited and giddy. “The temple was amazing!”

“And the center was…”

“Sandstone, just like you said it would be.” 

Roman looks up from the transfer and shock slowly shifts to excitement. He grabs Dean and pulls him into an excited hug, swinging him back and forth like he wasn't 6’4”, 225 pounds. “You crazy son of a bitch! We're gonna be rich!”

“Roman, I-I can't breathe…”

Roman lets him go and takes a step back while Dean catches his breath. Then, “Sorry.”

Dean takes the map back and folds it carefully, stuffing it back into his pack. “Were going to have to get this translated, Ro. But from what I can tell, we're staying in Mexico for a little while longer. You know anyone we can trust?”

Roman motions for Dean to get into the plane and pulls himself into the cockpit, slipping on his headset just as Dean does the same. “I got a guy.”

“Who?”

“Cesaro.” Roman answers and flips a few switches on the dashboard. The plane springs to life and he looks at Dean. “He might ask for a favor down the line, but he's trustworthy.”

“I love how you call a hitman ‘trustworthy’.”

Roman snorts. “Like what we do is on the up-and-up. Besides, I happen to know he's in the country at the moment.”

“Vacation?”

“Starting a coup.”

\---

The airstrip outside of Mexico City was shady to say the least. But Dean and Roman were no stranger to shady places. That's not to say he didn't clutch his backpack a little tighter or lay his hand on the handgun still holstered at his waist. As long as they kept their heads down and didn't announce themselves as American, they'd be fine. At least Roman, though of Samoan descent, could fit right in with his black hair, tan skin, and dark eyes; Dean tended to stand out. 

As long as he looked like he was supposed to be there, no one really questioned him. That was Dean's philosophy and it hadn't steered him wrong yet. 

Once out in the small city, Roman let Dean find them a vehicle. Though his Spanish was shotty at best, he was always better at talking to people, to get what he needed from them. Granted, this time it took paying a man $100 American dollars for his shitty Jeep, but they still got a car. 

It would be a two hour drive to Mexico City, where Roman had already called ahead to have Cesaro meet them at a cantina in the part of town where no one asks questions because questions could get you dragged out to the jungle where no one would ever see your sorry ass again.

Definitely the sort of establishment Dean liked. 

However, to call the place a dive would be giving it too much credit. Sure, there were tables and something that could maybe pass for a bar, but it had that _enter at your own risk_ sort of feel. Plus, the armed man sitting in a beach chair at the front door really pulled the ambiance together. Dean makes sure to nod at him when they pass. Never piss off the bouncers, especially when they have a shotgun in their lap.

They spot Cesaro sitting in the back corner with his back to the wall so he can see everyone who enters and exits and no one can sneak up on him; the mark of someone who's been in this sort of business for a while. He's got a bottle of tequila sitting in front of him and three glasses, a large smile on his face when they approach the table. 

“My friends!” He stands and shakes both their hands before motioning for them to sit. A glass lands in front of both of them and he's pouring the clear liquid before either of them could refuse. He holds his up, prompting Dean and Roman to do the same, albeit a little confused as to why. “A toast!”

Dean shrugs at Roman and downs his shot of tequila, coughing at the heady burn as it hit his throat. He wasn't a lightweight when it came to booze, but that shit was basically rubbing alcohol. Based on the look on Roman's face, he was thinking the same thing. 

“What did we toast to?” Roman asks, his voice gone hoarse from the booze. 

Cesaro smiles, “Success.”

“Here, here!” Dean adds, slapping his hand on the table and drawing looks from the few other patrons of this little hole in the wall. 

“So,” Cesaro begins and pours another round of tequila. “Roman mentioned something about a map.”

Though Dean wasn't exactly excited about involving another person, at least with Cesaro he knew they had a lesser probability that he'd turn on them. Cesaro didn't work for money, he didn't need it. Cesaro worked for favors; favors that could range from the simple drug run all the way to high treason. But, the favor usually matched the service he provided, so Dean was fairly certain he wouldn't have to assassinate some foreign politico somewhere down the line. That's the only reason he dug into his bag for the rubbing. 

“What can you make of that?”

Cesaro spread the piece of parchment out in front of him and splayed his fingers over the edges as his eyes traced each line. Cesaro was a special kind of hitman - or fixer, if you will - in that he spoke 6 languages, could read and write several more, and had an eye for foreign calligraphy. In another life, the man would have made an excellent treasure hunter. 

Dean shifts in his seat slightly when the man quirks an eyebrow up and studies him for an uncomfortably long moment. “Where did you get this?”

“Does it matter?” Roman asks, though Dean is unsure if it's rhetorical. 

The fact that Cesaro smiles at that worries him. “I can tell you that you're in over your head with this one, Ambrose. El Dorado? It's a myth.”

“Then what's the problem?” Dean says with what he hopes is a confident smirk.

“The problem is that if your crazy ass actually finds it, you'll be the most dangerous man on the planet.” Cesaro answers and pulls a pen from his pocket to scribble something on the side of the map. “And you know who will be after this if he finds out you have it.”

Yeah, he knew who Cesaro was referring to. “Seth Rollins isn't my concern right now.”

“Yes he is.” Cesaro chuckles and passes back the paper, a set of words scrawled neatly under each pictograph. “He's had a hit out on you for two years now. It's only a matter of time before he catches up. You know it and I know it. Seth rollins wants you dead and this will only give him more incentive to do so.”

“He's got a point Dean.” Roman adds, earning an incredulous look from his partner. 

“Look, I can handle Seth Rollins, okay.” He says and ignores the stifled chuckles from the other two men. “Besides, the only way he's going to find out is if someone tells him.” He points to Roman. “You're not going to tell him.” Then he points to a Cesaro. “ and I'd hope you wouldn't tell him.”

Cesaro leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest with a knowing little grin on his lips. “For an extra favor, I can forget this little meeting ever took place.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Ugh, fine!” 

“Good! Then we're done here?” Says the Swiss man and makes to stand up.

Dean stops him and indicates toward the map. “Wait, what did you write on this thing?”

Cesaro laughs and explains that the pictographs are locations, figure out where they are and the mythical city will be in the center of them all. Then he nods his goodbyes to each man and disappears out the door like a shadow never to be seen again until he needed those favors cashed in. 

“Were not asking him to help ever again.” Dean says to Roman. 

“Relax, Dean.” Roman says and claps Dean on the back. “At least now we have a place to start.”

Dean looked down at the map and smiled. Yeah, they did.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean wakes up hungover. Not that he really didn't expect it because after cesaro left that bottle of tequila - already paid for - Dean and Roman drank the last of it. He remembers challenging the bouncer to a shooting competition in the street, winning, then being kicked out with threats of death. All-in-all, not the worst way he's ever been toss out of a bar with Roman. 

When he lifts his head from the pillow to check the time on his watch, he immediately regrets it, head throbbing behind his eyes with every turn of his head enough to make him nauseous. He doesn't puke, but it gets close for a few seconds there. 

“Roman?” He says into the room, voice strained and deep from all the liquor. He doesn't see him in the other bed, but he's pretty sure him and Roman came back to the hotel together last night. 

Slowly, groaning with every movement his aching body made, he managed to sit up. That's when he found Roman, passed out on the floor, curled in on himself like he fell asleep wherever he landed. This makes Dean chuckle. At least he made it to a bed even if he was still fully clothed save for one shoe sitting next to him on the nightstand. Why? Who knows. Drunk Dean probably thought sober Dean would get a kick out of it. 

He throws the shoe at Roman, who jumps up immediately and just as quickly grabs at his head. “Jesus fuck...”

“You alright down there?”

Roman looks up at him through squinted eyes, almost as if he wasn't sure Dean was real at first. “Did you throw a shoe at me?”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“Who knows?” Roman answers and uses the cheap dinette chair to pull himself up and steady his body. “The fuck happened last night?”

“A lot of tequila.” Chuckles Dean, looks down at four phone numbers scrawled on his forearm. “ _A lot_ of tequila.”

“Goddamn Cesaro.” Roman groans, somehow managed to make his way to the bathroom and doesn't even bother shutting the door when he pisses. “Who drinks that motor oil, anyway?”

“Us apparently.” Says Dean, rifling around in his bag for a bottle of water and some aspirin. He sees the map sitting amongst his clothes and smiles with something akin to pride. He shoves it deeper into his things.

He'd done it. Where so many others had failed, he'd found the map to untold riches. He did feel bad for The Viper, though. Poor guy probably didn't deserve to go out that way. Or maybe he did. He wasn't really sure, but the dude was pretty shady when he hired him.

He hears the toilet flush and remembers where he is and that his head is in a vice, downs the pills and the water bottle in one go. 

Roman flops down on the other bed and puts a pillow over his face. “If I give you all the money in my wallet, will you put me out of my misery?”

Dean simply chuckles and tosses the bottle of painkillers over to Roman, hitting him in the stomach. He's about to go to the bathroom himself, splash some water on his face and try to feel a little more human, when a knock at the door draws both their attention. He looks over at Roman, who's looking back at him in confusion. “You expecting someone?”

“No. you?”

Dean shakes his head and palms his handgun. There's another round of knocking just as he gets to the door. He peeks through the peephole, but the person is standing off to the side and he can't see them. He looks back at Roman, who by now has his own piece ready in his hand, nods for him to be ready. He gives himself a three count and pulls open the door. 

His stomach drops to the floor, heart racing in his chest, beating so loud he can barely think over the thrumming in his ears at the shock of it. There, leaning nonchalantly against the frame, grinning at him with those deep brown eyes that held the promise of danger and mischief, was none other than Seth Rollins. “Hi Dean.” 

He's dressed impeccably when Dean drags his eyes over him, in a sharp black suit that hugs every curve of his body, hands shoved in his pockets like he might have a weapon other than his dick. He looks good, all sharp lines and eyes that drip sex. But then again, he's always looked good to Dean. 

However, That didn't stop dean from pointing his gun directly between the lying, sneaky, sonofabitch’s eyes. Seth didn't even flinch, didn't even drop the slimy grin. “Now is that any way to treat a friend?”

Dean scoffs, really tries to hold in the incredulous tone. “ _Friend_? It's not a friend standing here, is it?”

“Oh c’mon.” Seth drawls, pushing himself from the wall and eyeing Dean with that look of promise and just the right amount of contempt. “Put the gun down and let's talk.”

Dean doesn't have to put the gun down because he hears Roman's heavy boots before he sees one large hand jut out, clutch Seth by the shirt, and drag him into the hotel room only to slam his back against the wall hard enough to knock a picture frame loose and an audible ‘oof’ to escape Seth's mouth. “You motherfucking, low down, rat bastard, traitorous, slimy, snake!”

Seth rolls his eyes. “That was a lot of names there, Ro. Anymore you'd like to throw at me?”

Roman lifts his gun and presses it to the tender flesh just under Seths jaw, forcing his head to tilt up and his calm demeanor to falter only slightly. “Yeah, how about deadman?”

“Roman, back off.” Dean says, surprising himself, and shuts the door, locking it. 

Seth grins at him like Dean might just be on his side and Roman snarls in his face. He doesn't let go, doesn't move the gun, but also doesn't shoot him. Small victories. 

“What are you doing here, _Seth_?” Dean asks, checking how many bullets he has left in his clip just in case he has to start shooting limbs for answers because there is _no way_ Seth is here for no reason. In fact, he knows exactly why Seth is here and has every intention of making Cesaro pay for it. 

Seths eyes slide to meet Dean's, and he's still grinning, calm and cool, like none of this even remotely fazes him. “I think you know why I'm here.”

“I wanna hear you say it.” He prods, pressing the muzzle of his gun to Seth's shoulder, ready to fire if he didn't like the answer. In all honesty, he might just fire anyway. “C’mon, lie to me.”

Seth is still calm, but his Adam's apple is jumping, so he's also nervous. “A little birdie told me you've found something pretty important.”

“Have they?”

“Let s just shoot him, Dean.” Roman growls , pressing the gun up into Seth's jaw more forcefully. His finger is awfully itchy on that trigger. Besides, if anyone is going to kill Seth, it's Dean. 

“Roman, why don't you go see if you can scrounge us up transport?” Deans says and Roman's eyes shoot to him, pissed off and concerned all in one stormy package. 

“Is that a good idea?” 

“I can handle him.” Dean assures him and waves his gun up to show he's not stupid either. 

Roman shakes his head and looks to the still grinning Seth and back to Dean. “I don't think you can.”

“Roman, go.” He instructs more forcefully. “I have some unfinished business with him anyway.” 

Though he hesitates for another long, drawn out second, Roman relinquished his hold on Seth with one last shove. Rollins, for his part, looks like he's disgusted by the fact that someone like Roman Reigns dared to touch him while he brushes out the wrinkles in his shirt and smooths down his jacket. 

He grabs his bag and brushes past dean. “You call me if there's a problem, understand?”

Dean nods, eyes still glued on Seth. He waits until he hears the door close before he speaks again, instructing Seth to empty his pockets. Seth smiles when he pulls free nothing but the fabric of his pants. Empty. Unusual. “You came here unarmed? What happened to that hit you have out on me?”

Seth shrugs, but there's a hidden meaning behind it Dean can't place, and winks at him. “Who said I was unarmed?”

This time Dean demands his suit jacket and Seth hands it over without a fuss. Dean watches him shift out of the material, trying to ignore how he can see every muscle twitch under the thin fabric of his dress shirt, how it makes his mouth dry and his breath catch in his throat at the thought of it crumpled on the floor and Seths lying mouth around him. He shakes that though off while he looks through the pockets. Nothing. Not even car keys. Which means he has a driver, one he's probably told to keep a look out. 

“Anything else you'd like me to take off?” It's suggestive and Dean raises an eyebrow at him, seriously considering it. 

“Whatever you think I have, I don't.” Is what he says, lies, knows Seth can see right through him because Seth always could.

“Please. What do you take me for?” Is what Seth says, taking a step toward him. “I know you've got something.”

Dean hold up his gun and Seth stops moving, even if that suggestive smirk is still inching at the corner of his mouth. “Don't think for one second I'm not onto you, Rollins.”

“I'd like you to be on me.” He says, licks his lips in a way that had Dean swallowing hard. But he stands his ground and Seth slumps slightly at his advances being rejected. 

“Two years, Seth.” Dean begins, anger starting to replace whatever surprise he might have felt. “Two years of trying to kill me and suddenly you want to bone down? Despite what you think, I'm not stupid. You want whatever you think I have, but you aren't willing to kill me for it. Why?”

“Trust me, I'll be sure to laugh over your corpse, Ambrose.”

“You're just doing this for attention, you goddamn drama queen!” He yells and Seth slow suggestive look shifts as he sneers at him, rears back his fist, and connects with his jaw to send him sprawling down into the floor and the gun somewhere under the bed. 

Seth is on him in an instant, pins his wrists above his head and holds them there, all the while still sneering down at him like Dean deserved nothing more than his contempt. Fuck, maybe he didn't. 

“You know, Deano.” He says, using that long forgotten nickname he'd used hundreds of times before, the one he knew would make Dean flinch when it came from Seth's mouth. “I learned a long time ago not to believe anything you say, and look where it got me.”

“Don't kid yourself, Sethie.” He snaps right back and doesn't hide the smirk when Seth rolls his eyes at the use of his own long forgotten pet name. “You fucking miss me and you know it!”

“ _Miss_ you!?” He laughs, and grinds his hips down on Dean's, quite possibly just to rile him up. “I fucking _hate_ you!”

“Yeah? Well I fucking hate you!”

There's a long few seconds where they're doing nothing but staring at each other, breathing heavy and snarling their disdain for one another mere inches apart. Then Seth breaks the tension like only he could, cutting deep and twisting the knife even deeper. “Why don't you just do us all a favor and die like you're supposed to? You aren't worth shit to anyone alive anyway.” 

Dean tries to hide how much that actually hurt, especially coming from Seth, by tugging at the hands still pinning his wrists above his head. If there's one thing Dean's knows how to do, it's hurt Seth right back. “Same reason you don't crawl back to whoring on the corner where I found you. It _pisses you off_. You were always much better on your hands and knees anyway, weren't you?”

To his utter amazement, that actually shocked Seth and his grip loosened enough for Dean to flip their positions and pin him between his legs. “What did you think was going to happen coming here, Seth? Did you really think you would just seduce the map out of me?”

“I don't believe you even have it!” He bites the words through gritted teeth and unchecked anger. “You're all show, Ambrose! You never had it in the first place, did you?”

Dean laughs because he knows exactly what Seth is doing. Playing to his ego may have worked a few years ago, but he was wise to that tactic now, especially since it's bitten him in the ass more than once. “Maybe I don't, _Seth_. You'll never find out, will you?”

Seth tries to shake him off, but he holds firm. This time, when Seth bucks his hips up, the friction between them makes them both groan. Then they froze, still and silent in the space of this shitty little motel room in Mexico and suddenly, it wasn't just the heat making him sweat. They both feel it, he can tell by the way Seth is looking at him. Their faces are so close he can feel Seths breath on his face. It would be nothing to just lean down and kiss him, which would really get under his former lover's skin. 

So he does, all forceful and rough, full of teeth and tongue and pure lust. To his surprise, Seth isn't trying to pull away. In fact, he sucks Deans lower lip between his teeth and bites down before he has to pull away, blood having been drawn by those fangs of his. “You bit me!”

Seth smirks. “You started it.” Then he rolls his hips up and Dean has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning. His smirk widens, smug now. The bastard. “Now, are you going to _finish_ it?” 

“You don't deserve it.” Dean growls and pushes himself to his feet, making sure to stay between Seth and the door, but he knows this is a losing battle. They'd always end up back to this point because they were always connected, and would always be connected. He watches as Seth pulls himself up to stand, dark eyes boring holes into his own. “I should just shoot you and be done with it. Who would miss a whore like you?”

Seth falters for a moment, only a moment, but recovers quickly, just like he always did, and he's walking toward him, eyes locked. But Dean stands his ground, even when Seth is centimeters away, the warmth of their bodies intermingling. He feels Seth's hand slip between them and cup the front of Dean's jeans, forcing the moan he'd been trying so desperately to hold in. “If you shoot me, who's going to help you with this?”

He gasps despite himself when Seth squeezes his already growing bulge, but manages to push him back, probably not forceful enough for Seth to land sprawled out on the bed, but there he was, propped up on his elbows with that come hither smile Dean is damn near powerless to fight. He puts up a good effort though, only coming to stand between Seth's dangling legs. 

“I know what you're doing.” Dean says, his last stand against the tightening in his jeans. 

And Seth grins, looking up at Dean through his eyelashes. “Do you? And yet, you still haven't _really_ tried to stop me.”

Dean kicks Seth's legs farther apart and gets closer, all the while looking down at him with anger and hatred and everything he knew he felt for the man. But he was right, he still hadn't stopped him. That's when Seth must have finally had enough and sat up, face level with Dean's hips. Nimble fingers started painfully slowly unbuckling his belt, tugging the worn leather free from the loops of his jeans and places it almost reverently next to him. Then he starts kissing at the skin just under the hem of his t-shirt, until that graduated into harsh bites that he knew would drive Dean over the point of no return. 

“This doesn't change anything.” Dean says, breathless when he feels a tongue swipe just below his belly button. 

Seths fingers are already working on his fly when he looks up at him, that smirk still there at the corners of his perfect mouth. “I wouldn't _dream_ of it. What's a little friendly fucking between enemies, huh?” 

“ _Friendly_?” He laughs then gasps when Seth gets his jeans down past his hips and his painfully hard erection springs free and hits his stomach. “Is that what we're calling this?”

Another one of those smiles and Seth has a hand on him, squeezing just enough for Dean to buck his hips forward. His sinful tongue traces a line down the large vein at the underside of his cock until he reaches the head, where he stops. “You are always so easy, Dean. Yet you call me the whore.”

“And what would you call fucking for money?” Dean bites out when the head of his dick finds itself in Seth's mouth only for him to come off with a wet _pop_.

Undeterred, even with the tight set of his mouth after that statement, Seth takes a hold of Dean's hips and pulls him down into the bed, flips him onto his back so he can straddle his waist. Again, their faces are mere centimeters apart. “I'd call it business. But I did my charity work. I fucked you for free, didn't I?”

“You fucking son of a -” he's cut off when lips clamp down on his own, hard. Seth   
pulls away only long enough to unbutton his shirt and Dean's breath catches in his throat at the bronzed god grinding his hips down into his. Their lips are fused again, Seth's hands wandering all over his chest and sides. Sharp nails claw down his skin and dean hisses, but pulls at the botton on Seth's fine pants, popping it free to slip his hand inside, finds his mark and grins when he discovers Seth is as hard as he is. When he begins to stroke him, Seth falters, panting into Dean's mouth more than kissing it now. 

“Fuuuuuck…” 

Deans grin widens, “I knew you fucking missed this, you goddamn liar.”

“Oh, I'm the liar?” Seth breathes, letting Dean continue to work on him for a few more seconds before he grabs both of his wrists and again plants them above his head, holding them there with one hand while the other grabs the belt. 

All common sense must have left Dean's brain when all his blood went to his groin, because he actually _let_ Seth wrap the worn leather around his wrists far too tight to get free easily and secure it to the metal frame headboard. Then he just waits, staring down at Dean, grinning, hips moving just enough to have Dean biting his bottom lip. And he's on him again, mouth biting at Dean's, teeth cutting into the skin of his tongue. It was frantic, a rush of hands and lips all over him while Dean can do nothing but let it happen. Not that he's fighting it, especially when Seth starts to kiss and bite down his neck, probably leaving harsh red marks he could try and explain away to Roman, even though the big man would know exactly what happened. 

Seths hands get under his shirt and push the fabric up, kissing and biting at his chest and abs. Dean let's himself get lost in what Seth is doing to him because no one, absolutely no one, has ever made his skin burn quite like the man on top of him. When Seth bites hard on his hip, Dean lets out a little yelp that dissolves into a moan of “Fuuuuuck, Seth…”

And Seth is grinning, sly and triumphant, the asshole. He takes Dean in his hand and gives him two painfully slow strokes, twisting his wrist just the way he knows Dean likes it. “You want something, Dean?”

“C’mon!” He responds, more than a little desperate at this point. “If you're gonna do it, just do it! We both know you want to!”

That's when it hits that maybe he had made a huge mistake. Seth grins and climbs off of him, smooths out his hair, calm and collected like the last ten minutes never even happened. He fastens his jeans, puts his shirt back on, adjusts himself, and grins at the very stunned man tied to the bed, dick still painfully hard and lying heavy against his stomach.

“What was that about calling me a liar?” He says and walks calmly to Deans bag, chuckling to himself when Dean tries to stop him. Dean can do nothing but watch and tug at the belt around his wrists frantically as Seth rummages around his clothes and toiletries for a few seconds and comes up with the map. “You wanna be the pot or the kettle, you predictable asshole?”

“You have _got_ to be kid-” he's cut off when a pair of his rolled up socks are shoved between his teeth.

“Shut up, Dean.” He says with a smile and pats him on the cheek. He waves the map in front of Dean's face and taps him on the forehead with it. “Thanks for this. I'd say I'll be in touch, but I don't care if I see your stupid face ever again. Tell Roman I said hi.”

Then, he kisses Dean on the forehead, strolls to the door with a spring in his step and a whistle on his lips while Dean's muffled yells followed after him.

Fuck.

\---

He was like that for hours, grumbling behind the socks still in his now overly dry mouth. He knew it was hours thanks to the little red numbers on that fucking clock every motel room seems to have sitting on the nightstand next to him, mocking him with every passing second until that was the only light in the room once the sun went down. His shoulders were screaming from being in the same position for so long, his fingers had gone numb some time ago, and his now limp dick was still lying against his hip. He expected at least the cleaning lady to show up, but Seth must have put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the doorknob, the bastard. 

He'd get him for this. Not only did he leave him in this embarrassing predicament, but he took the map, the one Dean had stolen fair and square! Now he was probably halfway to Brazil, laughing his head off at what he'd done. 

The key in the door lock drew his attention and he winces at the brightness when the light is flicked on. Once his vision adjusts, he sees Roman looking at him with a mix of surprise and more than a little amusement. “Really, Dean?”

He tries to tell him to go fuck himself, but it's muffled with the socks between his teeth. He settles on rolling his eyes and flopping his head back onto the mattress.

Roman closes the door and the gap between them in a few short strides, laughing as he crosses his arms over his broad chest. “You're an idiot, do you know that?”

He answers with a muffled “yes”.

Roman pulls the socks from his teeth and Dean is finally able to stretch out his jaw. “Thanks.”

“I know I should probably feel bad for you, but…” Roman chuckles, still just standing there with Dean glaring at him. 

“Shut up and untie me!” He snaps. “Seth got the fucking map!”

Roman quirks an eyebrow at him. “See, that's the attitude that gets you into these messes.”

Again he rolls his eyes. “Can we save the pep talk for later?”

Another chuckle and Roman pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps a quick picture “for future blackmail” before he unties Dean's wrists. He lets his arms down slowly, rolls the joints out a few times and sits up, stuffing himself back into his jeans and zipping them up. 

“So, what's your plan now loverboy?” Roman asks, still way more amused than he should be considering Seth had just made off with the only known map to all that gold. He sits down at the small dinette table and places his hands on his head while Dean glares at him from the bed. “I told you it would be a bad idea to be alone with him, but _someone_ didn't want to listen.”

Dean sighs and runs a hand down his face. “I thought I could handle him this time.”

“Dean, you can _never_ handle Seth and you know it.”

“I'm gonna kill the little shit next time I see him, that's what I'm gonna do!” Dean grinds out between his teeth, up and pacing just to get that aggravated itch under his skin to stop. 

This time Roman rolls his eyes. “And who do you think you're trying to fool?”

Dean stops pacing and eyes him. “Excuse me?”

Roman drops his hands from his head and looks Dean dead in the eye. “You've been saying you're going to kill Seth Rollins for years now and he _always_ gets the better of you. Face it, Dean. He's your kryptonite.” 

“I'm actually gonna do it this time, Ro.” He counters, ignoring the fact that the Big Dog was probably right. “I'm going to wring his scrawny neck!”

“He'd probably like that.” 

“Shut up!”

Roman chuckles. “Okay, look, let's deal with one problem at a time. Do you remember any of the map was before you were so embarrassingly relieved of it?”

Though Dean let that slide for now, he thought for a second and rifles around for his iPad. He thankfully managed to get a photo of it. He wasn't a complete idiot. 

“Were good, but we'll still have to deal with Seth.”

“Whatever.” Roman says and begins packing. “Let's just get out of here. We can talk about your inability to keep it in your pants when we get on the plane.”

Fuck.


	4. Chapter 4

_Five years prior_

“Gotta go faster!” He pants to himself, lungs burning and legs aching, and turns a corner, taking the sharp angle a little too hard and almost losing his balance. He could hear the footsteps behind him, gaining. “C’mon, Ambrose!” 

It wasn't like he deserved all the trouble they were going through to catch him. He didn't steal anything important. Well, not to them anyway. A journal, that's all. Granted, it did belong to one of their staff historians and Deans mentor, William Regal, but it wasn't like they knew what was in it. All they knew was that Dean and Regal were in cahoots. Unfortunately, Regal stumbled onto something important and told Dean before his sudden disappearance last night. Told him to get to his office, find the journal, that he'd understand the importance of what he'd discovered when he read it. 

However, sneaking into Authority Tower was more difficult than he thought, even with Regals swipe card. Guess when a disappeared employee suddenly checks in at one of the keycard stations it raises some red flags. He barely had time to grab the book before he was discovered and had to make a run for it. 

They followed him into the seedier part of town, hot on his heels, matching step for step. Dean was no slouch, easily able to maneuver himself through the streets at an above average speed, but these Authority guys were right on him. 

Once in the alley, he tries every door he can find, just to find a place to hide and catch his breath. All locked. 

“GODDAMMIT!”

He had to keep moving. He takes the corner on the opposite end of the alley better than the last, able to keep his balance, but doesn't see the guy standing there and smacks right into him, knocking them both to the cement. 

“Watch it!” The guy says, pushing Dean off of him as best he can. 

“I need a place to hide!” Dean damn near begs him, grabbing the front of his shirt in a desperate attempt to make him help him. They both turn at the sound of the footsteps hurrying down the alley. “ _Please!_ ”

The man eyes him for a long second, deep brown orbs studying like he wasn't sure what to do. Finally, he pulls Dean to his feet, pushes him against the wall, and plants a kiss on him in the shadows just as two of the Authority goons speed past, yelling at each other that he couldn't have gotten far. Aside from the sheer surprise of it, the tactic works. 

But the man doesn't let up immediately and Dean isn't exactly pushing him away. When he does finally pull back, he's smiling and Dean doesn't know what to make of that. 

“You ok?” The man asks, looking surprisingly concerned for someone he just met. 

“I...uh...Ambrose…” 

Stupid! Now he's going to think he's nuts. 

The man chuckles and shakes his head, clearly amused if the way one of his perfect eyebrows is arched was any indication. “Is Ambrose your name?”

He nods and it's like his brain finally recalibrates. “Sorry, yes. Dean. Thank you for...uh...that.”

“My pleasure.” He says and winks, the smirk on his face making Dean's face hot. “That one was on the house.”

And the flush is replaced with confusion. “Excuse me?”

He runs a finger down Dean's chest. “You want anything more and it'll cost you.”

“You're a hooker?”

“I prefer escort.” The man corrects. “Sounds classier.” Then, “What were they chasing you for?”

Dean grips the bag at his shoulder a little tighter. “Nothing.”

When another voice yells from the other side of the street, dean can see this mans face change to someone less sure and more afraid, back stiff and eyes wide. “That better be a customer, Tyler!”

Tyler? Didn't suit him. Was definitely a fake name. As fast as that composure was lost, it was back and a flirty smile was on his lips. “Look, I helped you out, maybe you can help me out. If I don't come back with some money, he's gonna blow a gasket.”

“He your pimp?” Dean asks and regrets it immediately if the way this Tyler winces meant anything. “Sorry.”

“No, you're right.” He says with a sigh. “Just...just let me give you a handy or something. It's the cheapest thing on the menu. I can't go back empty handed.”

Maybe it was the way this man was looking at him, maybe he felt sympathy, maybe he just wanted to protect him, but Dean felt the sudden urge to help Tyler. “Why don't I take you for coffee and I’ll give you $50. No handy required. It's the least I can do. You did save my life.”

Tyler smiles and that flush was at Deans skin again. He liked when he smiled. 

“On one condition.” Dean adds and that beautiful smile drops. “You give me your real name.”

He could swear he sees this man blush in the dark. But, after a few seconds of thought, that smile is back. “Rollins. Seth Rollins.”

\---

“You're thinking about him, aren't you?”

Dean looks up, suddenly aware that he wasn't back in that alleyway with Seth, but on a plane with Roman, who was now staring at him with a look of sympathy and more than a touch of annoyance. Yeah, he had been thinking about Seth, about how they met, about how he wasn't always like this. He was thinking about how after that meeting they'd gone to this hole in the wall diner that had the worst burnt coffee but the best apple pie and talked until the sun came up, how he got more than a handy that night, how dean felt the sudden urge to keep Seth, how Seth agreed to come with him once he asked. 

They used to be so good for each other. Then, one day, that wasn't enough. Seth wanted more, and he got it by sleeping with the head of the very organization that they had been one step ahead of for years, giving them all the information Dean had gathered on a sunken wreck off the coast of Bermuda. They netted millions in gold and silver salvaged from it. Throwing his lot in with the Authority got Seth everything he wanted, even going so far as blaming Dean for holding him back, even though it was Dean who taught him everything he knew about this business. Then there was word of the hit placed on his head and everything changed. Suddenly, they were enemies and to this day Dean didn't really understand why Seth wanted him dead. 

But he didn't kill him back at that hotel, and he most definitely could have. Something was up with him and, though he really shouldn't care, Dean wondered what that was. 

All he took was the map. 

One completely useless without Regals journal. Good thing Dean never told anyone about it, except Roman, after Regal disappeared. That included Seth. Sure, he might find the location of the city, but that was only part of it. Regal and Dean had worked out several challenges that would need to be overcome before they would reach the gold. So much gold.

That's what he really should be focusing on, not Seth Rollins. Yet here he sat under the scrutiny of Roman's stormy grey eyes, thinking about Seth. 

“You should have just killed him, Dean.” Roman says and Dean nods, though he knew it wasn't that simple. Roman knew that too, that's why he wasn't chastising Dean for what had happened too much. 

He rubs his tired eyes, tries to forget the way Seth made him feel, how it burned when they kissed, the electricity that was still there even after all these years of unwarranted hatred. “I know.”

“Look, I know it's easier said than done, especially when it comes to Seth, but he betrayed us.” Roman says and places a comforting hand on Dean's forearm. “Betrayed you.”

He pulls his arm away and makes a point to look out the window. He could see nothing but clouds. “Don't worry about Seth.”

“But I am worried about Seth.” Adds Roman. “I'm worried you won't be able to handle yourself if he's around. It's not just your life you have to worry about, you know. I'm pretty invested in this little project, which makes me a target too. If the Authority is after you then -”

“But he didn't kill me, Ro.” He interrupts. “He could have, easily, and he didn't.”

“Don't think to hard into it, Dean.” Roman warns, that deep tone there in his inflection. “Don't go down that rabbit hole.”

It was too late for that. 

Thanks to the translations done by Cesaro - the dead man he was - and Regals journal, they were able to get to the first location with no problems. Thankfully, the first location was easy to get to. Unfortunately, it was also a tourist destination. Chichen Itza. 

When they arrive, they're met with throngs of people with cameras, visitors waiting for tours, and those adventure seekers looking to _not really_ have a dangerous encounter. Dean and Roman bypassed them all. The only good thing about it was that it was easy to blend in. A pair of sunglasses was all it took for both of them to pass as tourists. 

When Dean flips through the journal, he's reminded of just what they were here for. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, Regal didn't share his secrets with many, but he'd figured out that in order to get to El Dorado, they'd need a key. To protect that key from the Spanish invaders, it was broken into pieces and dispersed throughout the cities. But the key had to be inconspicuous so the spanish couldn't just stumble upon it. So they carved a calendar stone, using it to hide the key. Only when the pieces are together could the city be opened. 

It all sounds very dramatic, and WAY over the top, but that's what they did. So that's what Dean and Roman needed to find. 

“You go left, i’ll go right.” He instructs and Roman gives him a little nod before disappearing into a crowd of people. 

There was no sign of Seth, though he was sure the little weasel was somewhere here. He could practically smell him. However, it became abundantly clear after about twenty minutes of wandering around that Seth Rollins wasn't going to be their only problem. There were plenty of guards roaming the compound, but it was the set of gentleman, looking way out of place in their fancy suits, following his every turn that really worried him. 

Authority goons. They had to be. Who else would look like that, here?

He was tempted to call them out, but they weren't making a move on him. They were just sort of watching. 

He swore under his breath as they tailed him, ready to call it quits and find Roman, but he feels a hand wrap around his forearm and he's suddenly being pulled into the shadows of the great temple. He’s pushed against the stone and growls when he comes face to face with Seth Rollins again. “You're not being very stealthy, Ambrose.”

He would retaliate, strangle him in the relative safety of the shadows, but a gun pressed just under his ribs stops him. He can't help the laugh that escapes.

“What's so funny?” Seth spits out, stern and thoroughly unamused. 

“Go ahead.” He says. “Call your buddies. Let's get this over with.”

“What are you talking about?” Seth peers out into the crowd where Dean has hooked his thumb and his eyes widen when they fall on the two Authority goons who can't seem to find them now. It genuinely takes Dean by surprise when he gasps and plasters himself against the wall next to him. Was Seth Rollins...afraid? 

“What? They not with you?”

“Shut up, Dean!” Seth snaps and pushed the gun a little harder against his ribs. “Don't make me shoot you.”

“If you wanted to shoot me, you would have done it already.” Dean points out. “Besides, now i’m very interested why the Authority golden boy is suddenly afraid of the very people he sold out his friends to; sold out _me_ to?”

“I’m not afraid, alright!” 

“Sure looks like you are.”

The gun at his side lifts to just under his jaw and Seth pulls the hammer back. “I swear to god, I will end you right here. How'd you get here without the map?”

“I took a picture of it, jackass.” Dean answers with a roll of his eyes. Was Seth really stupid enough to think Dean wouldn't have a backup? “I’m impressed you were able to get here so quick though. Oh yeah, you had about 4 hours head start. My shoulders still hurt, by the way.”

“Why do we have to be here?”

Dean lets out an amused chuckle. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

“So you know something you aren't sharing.” Seth grins. “Spill or I spill your brain matter all over this wall.”

“That sounds awful counter productive to me, Seth.”

The gun pressed even harder into his jaw and he has to wince against the uncomfortable feel of steel on flesh. “ _Please_.”

Did Seth just say please? And did he just say it with a shaky voice? What was going on? “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything!” He bites out, but there's definitely a hesitancy behind it. 

Then it seems to click. “You're running from them, aren't you?”

Seth growls, snarls, and points the barrel of the gun directly between Dean's eyes. For a split second, he's sure that he is going to pull the trigger, positive he was about to make good on that promise of his. When he doesn't, and the gun falls to his side, Dean breathes out a small breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. Seth looks defeated for the first time. In all the years he’s known him, Dean has never seen that look in his eye. Ever. 

“What did you do?” He asks, not really expecting an answer. And he doesn't get one because Roman has finally joined the party, clocking Seth on the back of the head with a large stone, forcing Dean to grab him before he hits the ground. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah, i’m the problem here.” Roman snaps at him, completely warranted. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I was minding my own business when this asshole grabbed me!” He shoots right back. “The Authority are here.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Roman says, points to the unconscious Seth in Dean's arms. 

Dean shifts Seth's arm to support his weight. To anyone looking, he might just look like someone suffering from heat stroke or too much alcohol the night before. “Not him. Others. Dudes in suits tend to stand out in places like this. I’ll explain later. Did you find the piece?”

Roman eyes Dean like he's not really sure he should say anything. “Yeah. Top of the Temple is a small gallery. It’s up there under glass. Leave him here and we’ll come back tonight when everyone is gone.”

“No can do, Ro.” Dean says and nods for Roman to help him with Seth. “He’s coming with us so we can keep an eye on him.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Not leaving him here.”

Roman breathes out a loud, overly dramatic, annoyed sigh and shoulders Seth's other arm. “When this all goes gloriously south, Just remember I reserve the right to tell you ‘I told you so’.”


	5. Chapter 5

The hotel they find is small, but that wasn't surprising for this part of the country. Dean and Roman managed to get Seth into the room with no problems, stating that he'd had too much to drink at the cantina a few doors down when the guy at the front desk eyed them suspiciously. Thankfully, in this part of town, the less one knew, the better, so he didn't push the issue and handed Dean the key. 

In the room, they sat him down in one of the cheap dinette chairs and Roman duct taped his arms and legs to the chair. When Dean asked where he got the duct tape, Roman shrugged and smiled. “You always need duct tape.”

They capped it off with a strip over his mouth and went about their business until Roman left to get some food for them and dean sat on the edge of the bed and tried not to look at Seth. He failed, miserably. 

So he gave up and resigned himself to study the man. He looks different than the hotel back in Mexico City. Then, he'd had on a slick black suit and an impeccable air of confidence about him. Here, he'd wisely forwent the suit for more practical clothing; jeans and a black linen button-up with sleeves rolled to the elbows complete with more efficient boots. He had no bag with him, which was strange, and the map stuffed into his back pocket which Dean quickly relieved him of. His longer hair had been pulled into a neat bun at the nape of his neck, but had fallen out, leaving most of his dark curls to cover his face as his head hung against his chest. He looks more like how dean remembered him, not the Authority stooge he'd become. He liked it. He missed it. 

He started to stir not long after Roman left, a pained groan filling the quiet space of the room. Dean just waits, feet propped up on the bed with his hands resting behind his head. He grins as he watches Seth's fingers open and close for a few seconds, his head start to move, and his eyes try to open. He could watch this all day. 

Seth sits bolt upright suddenly, like he'd just realized the predicament he was in, but winces and groans behind the tape covering his mouth. Dean smiles, thoroughly amused. “Mornin’ sunshine!”

Seths bleary eyes look at him and he chuckles at the glare he's being given. He tries to pull his arms free, tugging and pulling, the chair wobbling back and forth, and Dean just waits for the moment he finally tips it over from sheer stubbornness alone. He does, tipping over to the left and grunting when his shoulder hits the floor. 

Dean can't help but laugh at him. The usually composed and collected Seth Rollins, duct taped to a chair by his arms and ankles, lying on the floor looking so pissed off it was laughable. Dean's not going to let him stay like that, he just needs a second to catch his breath. 

Once he finally gets his laughter under control, he pulls himself off the bed and crouches next to Seth, pats him lightly on the cheek, and stands him upright, all the while grinning at the pissed off glare he's being given. 

“There you go, right as rain.” He says. “How yah feelin’ champ?”

It's muffled, but Seth distinctly says ‘fuck you’ behind the tape. Again Dean chuckles. 

“How's your head?”

Nothing but an angry glare. 

And he's still grinning. “Roman hit you pretty hard. I bet you've got one hell of a headache.”

Dean stands up and rips the tape from Seth's mouth, trying not to delight too much in how he winces at the sharp pain. Surprisingly, Seth says nothing, just stretches out his jaw and glares daggers at Dean as he moves to sit back on the bed. For several seconds, they just stare at each other if for no other reason than to just size one another up. It's Seth who breaks the silence like only he could, recovering at a staggeringly quick speed, that look of absolute hatred replaced with a flirty grin in the blink of an eye. 

“If you wanted to tie me up Dean, all you had to do was ask.”

Dean rolls his eyes and ignores the statement. “Why were you running from the Authority? I was under the impression that they were your cash cow.”

Seth dodges the question with one of his own. “What do you know about the cities on the map that you aren't sharing?” 

“I asked you first.”

“Well, I'm not telling until you do.” 

Dean snorts a laugh. “You're unbelievable. Maybe I should just call up Hunter and ask him.”

Seths eyes narrow, but there's a hint of fear dancing there that Dean's sure Seth will deny. “You wouldn't dare risk them finding you, Dean. You aren't that stupid.”

“They don't have to find me.” Dean counters, a cool smile on his lips. “A payphone call that they'll definitely track, and all I have to do is tell them where to find _you_. It'd be easy to just hand you over. I mean, unless you aren't running.”

“You wouldn't.”

“I would.” Dean says. “In a heartbeat.”

Seth sniffs a laugh and again dodges the question. “Where's your bodyguard?”

“He'll be back.” Says Dean. “Answer the question.”

“No.”

“Fine. Be that way.” He laughs and turns on the television, letting the sounds of some telenovela fill the space. He didn't speak much Spanish, but it was pretty easy to figure out what was going on. He easily ignores Seth when he sighs loudly and continues to tug at the tape around his wrists. He wasn't going anywhere, Dean knew that and so did Seth. 

“Fuck, fine!” He snapped suddenly.

“You had your chance.” Dean says and turns up the volume. “Besides, I'm very interested in why Raymon cheated on Rosa for her twin sister. I feel a love triangle coming on. Could have something to do with Rosa sleeping with Raymon's cousin during that exp-”

“Dean! Turn off the goddamn soap opera!” Seth shouts and Dean raises an eyebrow at him. That cool composure again broken and that fear back dancing in Seths dark eyes. So he does, flips the television off and moves one of the other chairs to sit right in front of Seth so he could watch him lie through his teeth. 

It takes a minute of scrutiny for Seth to speak. “I stole something from them.”

“That's it?” He's skeptical, but Seth was looking at him with trepidation and a nervous fear he's never seen before. “What did you steal?”

“In all fairness, they didn't know what they had.” He says, grinning a little. “To them it just looked like small rocks in a silver jar. We found them off the coast of Spain, a shipwreck from the 16th century.”

“You found Bezoar stones?” Dean asks, surprised and very impressed seth was even able to recognize them. When Seth nodded, Dean sat back in his chair. Seth was right, the Authority might not have know what they had, but Bezoar stones were incredibly valuable on the black markets and even in reputable circles. all they were was the stones formed in the stomachs of animals, but in the Middle Ages they were more valuable than gold. That's because royalty and nobility believed that they could protect people from poison by dipping it into a drink. Many had these stones made into necklaces or pendants. They were renowned for their magical abilities and are still highly prized. “How many did you take?”

“About eight.”

“Seth, that's worth a fortune. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I do, Dean.” Seth snaps at him. “Sadly, I know that thanks to hanging around _you_ for all those years. You know who else knows that now? THE GODDAMN AUTHORITY! Needless to say, I've been put on their hit list. Granted, I'm still WAY below you on that list.”

Dean shook his head. “So then why worry about what I'm after? You've got the stones, sell ‘em and retire.”

Seth looks away, “I can't.”

“What do you mean you can't?” 

Seth looks everywhere he can without actually meeting Dean's eye. “I lost them.”

He can't help it, he laughs, loudly and obnoxiously, enough for Seth to glare at him in utter annoyance. He doesn't care, that's the funniest thing he's ever heard. Seth Rollins, the Authority’s number one treasure hunter, not only stole a small fortune from them, but then _lost_ it. 

“It's not funny.” Seth says, tight. 

Dean wipes a tear from his eye and finally manages to control himself enough to speak. “Seth, you really expect me not to laugh at that? How'd you lose them?” 

“I was pickpocketed in Portugal.” He says and Dean again bursts into laughter. “Seriously, Dean!? Untie me so I can strangle you!”

“You realize, whoever took them, will have absolutely no idea what they've stolen and will, in all likelihood, throw them away.” 

Seth doesn't answer, just shifts in the chair and opens and closes his fists a few times. Somehow, dean manages to compose himself, the laughter dying down with the look of not only annoyance in Seths face, but also the fear dancing behind his eyes. That brought him to his next question. 

“Why tail me?”

Seth doesn't answer, he just stares at Dean like he's got no intention of saying another word. That was an easy enough fix. He grabbed for the remote and made to turn the telenovela back on when Seth stopped him. “I'm broke, okay? That what you wanted to hear? After the Authority figured out what I did, they cut me off. I've got nothing but a target on my back. I hoped, finding El Dorado before you would get me back in their good graces, but I've recently been assured that if I ever show my face again, I'll be shot on sight. This is all I have left. I can use it to find an island somewhere and hide!”

“You could always go back to sleeping with men on the streets.” Dean says and he knew that cut as deep as he meant it to because Seth is very obviously taken aback, eyes shocked and mouth open. But, in all honesty, dean didn't really care that he had hurt him because they had been doing this dance for two years now. All the unwarranted hatred just caught up with him. 

Seth looks away and makes a point to clear his throat. Maybe it was a way to dismiss what dean had said, maybe it was a way to hide how much that had actually cut him, but the look in Seths eye was enough for that little pang of guilt to begin creeping into his chest. He stands his ground though, pushing it down with all the other feelings for Seth he's had to bottle up. 

Before either of them can say another word, the door to the room opens and Roman slips in with a six pack of beer and a few paper bags of food. Seth doesn't look at him, but lifts his eyes to meet Dean's. It a tense few seconds where all was quiet as Roman looked between the two of them. 

“Everything alright?” He asks Dean, more than a little concerned. 

“Yeah, fine.” His reply is tight and he knows Roman can tell something had happened. 

Roman arches a perfect eyebrow at him. “You sure?”

Dean stands and grabs the duct tape from the table, replacing the strip he'd removed from Seth's mouth. Surprisingly, Seth doesn't fight him. “I'm sure.”

Though Roman doesn't really seem to accept that, he lets it slide and hands Dean a beer all the while keeping an eye on Seth. “You didn't tell him anything, did you?”

“No.” Dean twisted off the bottle cap and took a long drink, draining half the bottle, which didn't go unnoticed by either Roman or Seth. Then, “So what's the plan?”

“This is your operation.” Roman says and starts pulling styrofoam containers from the paper bags. “You tell me.”

Dean looks at Seth, then back to Roman. “You realize we're going to have to take him with us.”

Roman sighs and stops pulling containers. “You know, I feel like I've said this to you a lot recently, but that's not a good idea.”

“What else are we gonna do with him?” Says Dean. 

“I'm quite the proponent of just killing his ass.” Roman answers, cool and calm, like he'd just ordered a pizza or something. Seths eyes snap to him and back to dean. Though he's considered it, something tells him having Seth could be useful, even if it's just as a bargaining chip with the Authority. He tells Roman as much, relaying the conversation he'd had with Seth a few minutes ago. He also laughed when he found out about the stones. But that was neither here nor there at this point.

Bigger fish to fry.

“As much as it pains me to say so, maybe you're right.” Roman mumbles into his beer.

Dean snorts a disbelieving laugh. “I'm sorry, but did you just agree with me?”

“Fuck you.” He chuckles. “Mark this day on the calendar because I don't foresee it happening often.”

They both turn when Seth snorts behind the tape of over his mouth, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head. 

“Something to add, Sethie?” Dean says and pulls the tape free again. 

“You two never fucking change, do you?” Seth remarks. 

“Hey,” Roman says, sharp enough to draw Seth's attention. “Just because he's right doesn't mean I still won't shoot you. You aren't that important to me.”

Dean notes the way Seth swallows hard, even if he's trying to keep his face calm. Seth Rollins was afraid of Roman Reigns because he believes him. So does Dean. That is useful information to have for later. 

After a tense moment, Seth speaks again. “Can I have one of those beers?”

“No.” Roman and Dean say in unison and Seth slumps in the chair. 

\---

They fill Seth in on the basics, leaving out the part about William Regal and his journal for obvious reasons. They also use a pair of handcuffs that Roman had stuffed in his bag - for ‘reasons’ apparently - to cuff his wrist in front of him. When he protested, Roman again threatened to shoot him and he shut up. Dean could get used to that, for sure. 

They wait for nightfall to make their way back to the temple. In the dark, their only light the moon and a weak flashlight, the dense jungle surrounding them made the trek all the more difficult. Dean led the way, hand holding the chain between the cuffs at Seth's wrists, with Roman bringing up the rear. Unfortunately, with Seth's mobility limited, he fell more than once. 

“Can you _please_ take these off?” He asked Dean several times, but was ignored. Like hell Dean was letting him go. Besides, Roman had the key and Seth was more likely to get ice water in hell then have Roman release him. 

They stop at the tree line and Dean shut off the flashlight. In the dark, with the moon hung low behind it, the temple was breathtaking and all three of them stop to admire it for a few moments. 

“Beautiful.” Dean and Seth breathe at the same time, look at each other, and immediately look away. Dean just about caught Roman rolling his eyes so hard he could probably see his brain. 

He shakes it off and pulls Seth after him toward the main building. There were guards they were going to have to dodge, each of which with a very dangerous looking weapon in their hand to keep thieves and vandals out. Good thing this wasn't their first rodeo. 

He kept Seth close, a tight grip on the cuffs to keep him from getting too far. Roman went to the other side of the steps to keep a lookout while Dean and Seth climbed the steep stairs to the gallery at the apex. They made it with no trouble and, once inside, they were able to move more freely. 

“What are we looking for?” Seth asks and Dean answers by pushing him against the stone wall and telling him to stay. Though he sighs, annoyed, he stays where Dean puts him. “I can help, Dean.”

“I don't need your help.” Dean says and immediately spies what he was looking for. It's smaller than he thought it would be, maybe a foot wide. To the untrained eye, it might look like just the piece of a stone stila that hadn't been found yet, broken off at an off angle and, according to the label, ‘found under more modern construction’. “Got’cha.”

He feels Seth at his side and his eyes shoot up to glare at him. “I told you to stay put.”

“I chose not to listen to you.” Seth says, then, “That's it?”

Dean pushed Seth back and dropped his bag to the floor to search for his glass cutter. It was safer to just cut through the shielding than to risk setting off any pressure alarms. Once he got his tool out, he made quick work of carving out an opening large enough to grab the piece. 

He holds it in his hands, carefully studying it, turning it over in his hands and noting that the back was surprisingly smooth, unusual.

“There's no markings on the back.” Seth says and dean quickly wraps it in a bandanna and stuffs it into his bag. “That doesn't happen in normal calendar stones.”

“I know.”

“So that's your key?”

Dean almost told Seth to shut up for the hundredth time tonight, when he caught a glimpse of movement at the base of the temple. Roman was trying to signal them. When he finally did, he was pointing off to the left. Dean and Seth follow where he was indicating to see a keep pulling up. They watch as two men in suits and several more in military fatigues stepped out, armed to the teeth and pointing toward the top of the temple. 

Dean pulls Seth back and slams his back into the stone, seething now. “Did you call them!?”

“How the fuck did I call them?!” Seth snaps back. “You haven't let me out of your sight, Dean!”

“I don't know how yet, but this is your fault.” He snarls through gritted teeth.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Seth counters, just as heated. “Now, can we get the fuck outta here before they find us?”

Dean pulls out his cellphone and types a quick text to Roman to get to the trees, that he and Seth would meet him there. He watches as Roman makes a beeline for the treeline, staying low, and diving into the brush just as one of the men in military fatigues turns toward him. It was close, but Roman was out. 

Now, how were they going to get there being at the top of a goddamn temple. Seth had to have sensed Dean's hesitance and offered a solution. “Head out the back, down the opposite stairs. If we hurry, we can beat them.”

With no other option, Dean growls his displeasure at Seth, grabs him by the cuffs, and runs toward the back stairs. They make it down with no problems, but there was still a good 100 yards to the treeline and a guard passing by. They hide in the shadows and wait for him to pass before making a run for it. 

Unfortunately, they were also spotted. People started yelling, searchlights were on them, and men were running at top speed toward them. Dean had to let go of Seth to run. 

Seth makes it to the treeline first, easily dodging the hands that reached for him. Unfortunately, Dean didn't. He felt the body ram into the back of his knees and he falls head first into the grass. Somehow, he maneuvers himself into his back and kicks at the person holding onto him, catching them in the jaw and dazing them enough to scramble back to his feet. He's in the trees, but the voices are right on his tail. 

Fuck!

Suddenly, a body tackles him into the low hanging brush and holds him there. It was Seth, holding him still with a cuffed hand clamped over his mouth. They both watch as guards and Authority men run past them and further into the trees. When the voices were distant enough that it was safe, Seth removes his hand and stares down at a very surprised Dean. 

“Still think it was me who called them?” He whispers, body still lying on top of Dean's and his knee pressed between his legs in a way that most definitely wasn't an accident. 

Dean pushes him off, ignoring the way Seth groans in frustration. But, he does help Seth to his feet. “Thanks.”

Seth sniffs a quiet, dismissive laugh. “Whatever. Let's get outta here.”

Dean nods, but can't shake the fact that Seth, his sworn enemy, had just saved his life.


	6. Chapter 6

“Is this really necessary?” Seth asks and Dean eyes him as he closes one end of the handcuffs around the metal post of the motel headboard, the other around one of Seth's wrists. “I did save your life, you know.”

“I'm not convinced you aren't the one who set that whole thing up in the first place.” Dean counters and Seth let's out a disgruntled huff, which makes Dean smirk. “Besides, after all you've done, do you really think i’m just going to let you walk around freely? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Are you seriously asking?” Seth answers with a grin of his own. “Because I can answer that question.”

Dean ignores him and steps away. He also had to ignore the way Seths eyes followed him as he moved toward the front window of the motel room, like he was trying to figure Dean out all over again. When they first met, it was like he and Seth were made for each other, a distinct fitting of two puzzle pieces. Now, he's not so sure that one of those pieces isn't trying to fit back into a hole that is now too small. What's funny is that he's not sure just which one of them that is. Seths face is calculating, careful, and somewhat reverent the way he looks at him now, like he isn't sure what he wants to do. However, he was right, he had saved Dean's life in the jungle, but that didn't mean Dean would ever trust Seth Rollins again. So, they’d both have to deal with this situation for now.

Anyway, Seth Rollins was the least of his problems at the moment. Back in the jungle, he and Seth both made it back to the jeep before Roman, which was unusual to say the least. He's known Roman for ages, long before he ever ran into Seth Rollins, and he's never been one to get left behind. But he'd sent Dean a text several long minutes after he and Seth reached the Jeep stating that he was pinned down and couldn't move but they were headed toward them, to go and he'd meet them back at the hotel room. 

That was hours ago. Roman was always handy at getting himself where he needed to go, that's why Dean usually relied on him to find them transport, but he's been gone too long for Dean's liking. There's been no further texts, no communication at all. 

“I'm sure he's fine, Dean.” Seth says, surprisingly reassuring, and Dean turns to glare at him, sitting on the bed with his feet propped up. “Roman knows what he's doing.”

“Why does it matter to you?” He snaps back, probably harsher than necessary. He's on edge, antsy, scared that maybe something happened to his best friend and it could have been prevented. “You don't care about anything but yourself anyway.”

Seth shakes his head and makes it a point to look away from Dean. “I know you're just anxious, so I'll let that side. But keep in mind, I'm not the enemy here.”

A humorless laugh escapes before he can stop it. “You're so full of shit.”

“Excuse me?” Says Seth, a challenging eyebrow cocked in Dean's direction. 

How many times did they have to go over this? How many times before Seth got it through his thick skull that he's the one who fucked up, not Dean? “This innocent act of yours, it’s not becoming.”

“We can fight this until the day we die, Dean.” Seth counters. “But the fact of the matter remains that i’m in as much trouble as you are right now. So we can either work together or keep bickering over who betrayed who and why.”

“Yeah, I never got the ‘why’ part, Seth.” Dean snaps. “Explain it to me. Because, from where i’m sitting, you're the one who dug this grave of yours, not me; you're the one who wanted what we had to end, not me; you're the one who -”

“Okay, I get it.”

“I don't think you do!” He shouts and Seths mouth clamps shut. Maybe it was the anxiety getting to him, maybe it was just being in such close proximity to him, but every feeling he’s ever had for the man cuffed to the bed started bubbling to the surface and boiling over like a volcano. He was on his feet and pacing in an effort to get it to stop, to get that aggravated ache for Seth to go away. Fruitless effort. That ache was going to stay lodged in his chest, it was going to fester, and it was going to take over eventually. He knew it, so did Seth. “I would have done anything you asked me to, Seth. Anything. I would have gone to the ends of the earth, for you. But you didn't want me anymore. You wanted _them_ and you were willing to run me over, back up, and do it again. So forgive me if I have a hard time buying what you're selling.” 

Seth sat silent, preferring to watch his hand in his lap rather than look Dean in the eye. Dean plops himself into one of the chairs and scrubs a hand down his face. Too much, too quick, and he feels lightheaded. Neither say anything more to the other. 

The seconds turn into minutes, turn into an hour, and neither had said another word. Finally there's a knock at the door. Dean jumps up immediately and palms his gun because there could be anyone on the other side of that door. He looks through the peephole and breathes out a sigh of relief. Roman. 

He pulls open the door and Roman slipped in, out of breath and wearing different clothes than he had gone out with. There's a bruise forming under his left eye, a scratch above his right, and a slight limp. “What happened to you?”

Roman glares at him for a split second before he's stalking toward Seth, grabs him by the shirt, and lifts him to his feet. He yelps and winces when Roman tries to pull him further than his one cuffed wrist would allow.

“You son of a bitch!” Roman growls at the very wide eyed man he held awkwardly.

“I didn't do anything!” Seth tries to say, and Roman slapped him hard. His free hand shot to his face to rub his reddening cheek. “Roman, I swear! It wasn't me!”

“You expect me to believe that?” A low snarl and he grips Seth tighter. “They swarmed the temple, they almost found me, I had to wait for hours, I had to fight to get here! They fucking followed me! I had to bribe someone for their clothes just to blend in!” 

“Roman, put him down.” Dean says. It wasn't that he wouldn't mind seeing Roman get a few good punches off on Seth, but he really should look at that cut above his eye. Roman bares his teeth and pushes him back onto the bed. Seth stares up at Roman in shock, breaths coming in shallow waves, and Dean thinks that he likes this version of him; the one where that cool exterior has shattered and his emotions are there to be seen. Fear looks good on him. 

He motions for Roman to sit in one of the chairs, which he does even if his eyes never break contact with Seths. He gets on of the washcloths from the bathroom and wets it before gently dabbing at the blood on Roman's face. 

Roman sighs and winces. “Did you at least get the piece?” 

Dean grins down at him. “We got it.”

“Good.” Is all he says and the room falls silent while Dean finishes with the cut. Then, “What's next?”

Dean chances a look at Seth, who's watching them. “Let's worry about that in the morning.”

“Fine.” Says Roman and slaps Dean's hand away, apparently done with being fussed over. “But I'm not sharing a bed.”

Dean lets out a sigh. He had a feeling this was coming and watches as Roman disappears into the bathroom and the shower starts running. He looks at Seth, still sitting on the bed uncharacteristically quiet. Roman says nothing when he exits the bathroom freshly showered and changed, slipping under the covers of the bed Seth wasn't sitting on and turns onto his side. Oh, he was still pissed off and not even remotely trying to hide it, and Dean couldn't exactly blame him. He himself was royally angry with his former lover, still unconvinced that this whole debacle wasn't his fault. However, there was nothing they could do now but keep a closer eye on him. 

He changes quickly and sits on the bed with Seth who's looking at him like he's shocked - maybe even a little delighted - that Dean would sleep here with him. 

“Don't get any ideas, Seth.” He says as he turns off the light and climbs under the sheets, Seth still perched on top dressed in the same clothes. “You're sleeping on top of the blankets.”

Seth says nothing and scoots down so he's laying on the pillows, cuffed wrist awkwardly lying above his head. Both men just stare at the ceiling as Roman's breathing begins to even out. Then, Seth says something Dean never thought he'd ever hear. “I'm sorry.”

Though he's not really sure what Seth is apologizing for, he doesn't acknowledge him. He turns his back to Seth and tries to close his eyes. He hears Seth let out a breath and the bed shifts as he also turns onto his side away from Dean. 

One apology would not be enough. Not by a long shot.

\---

To his surprise, Dean is the first one awake the next morning. He's even more surprised when he feels a weight lying on his chest. It's not uncomfortable. In fact, he'd say it was downright comforting to feel that pressure wrapped around him like a warm hug, like everything bad in his life could just melt away ad disappear. It's familiar and pleasant and he even feels himself sinking down into it, just enjoying the feeling. It's nice.

He cracks open his bleary, sleep weary eyes and sees just what that nice feeling was and it's immediately gone. Seth is sprawled over him with his head lying on Dean's chest, his cuffed arm was twisted awkwardly above him, though he didn't seem to mind it as he snored lightly and drooling onto Dean's shirt. He must have moved sometime during the night. 

Dean pushes him off and Seth starts awake. They look at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment before Dean pulls himself to sit up, anything to get away from Seth. For his part, Seth doesn't say anything, which Dean is absolutely fine with because he doesn't know how he'd react. He'd either punch him or fuck him and he didn't really want to do either. Roman was still sleeping in the opposite bed, tangled in the sheets like he had a fitful sort of night. 

He needs coffee, wants to see if he can seek out any in this little town, but he can't leave Seth here with Roman. If he did, he was fairly certain he'd find Seth dead on the bathroom floor on principle alone. He changes quietly and slips his shoes on before he uncuffs Seth's wrist and pulls him to follow him. “If you try to run, I have no problem putting a bullet in your back.”

Seth only nods at that and follows Dean out the door. 

It's barely morning, but it's already sweltering, and Dean just wants coffee. They finally a little shop not far from the motel and Dean buys two black coffees and pays for them, ignoring the look he was getting from Seth. Hey, if he wanted coffee, he shouldn't have stabbed Dean in the back. They begin the short trek back when Seth asks about the next piece. 

Dean sniffs a short little laugh. “I'm not telling you.”

“C’mon, Dean.” It's a whine, Dean knows that and can't help but grin. “You know I can help you.”

“Regardless of how true that may be,” he says and means it. “It doesn't change anything.”

The rest of the walk is in silence and when they get back to the motel, Dean almost shoves Seth through the door. Roman is awake when they get there and Dean hands him the coffee. He cuffs one of Seth's wrists to the bed again and ignored the disgruntled mumbling he could hear. 

The rest of the morning is spent going over the map with Roman, whispering to keep Seth as in the dark as possible. 

“So, you're telling me that the next piece should be in Rio?” Roman asks quietly, sneaking a look back at Seth as he does. “Why Rio?”

Dean shrugs and shows Roman his iPad where a picture of a black haired man, smiling in a suit, stood in front of a lavish mansion. “From what I can tell, this guy, Alberto Del Rio, is a pretty avid collector. When the site of the city where the piece _should_ be was raided last year, he's the one who bought most of the looted objects.”

“We didn't _loot_ the site, Dean.” They hear from the bed and both men turn to look at Seth, his free hand lazily resting behind his head. “We were paid by Del Rio to do a survey. And he paid very well.”

“Excuse me?” Roman growls, realizing at the same time as Dean that Seth and the Authority had been responsible for the stealing and subsequent sale of these objects. 

“You want me to apologize for it?” Seth says with a nonchalant shrug.

Roman looks back at Dean. “Can I shoot him?”

“Not yet.” He answers and looks at Seth. “You know Del Rio?”

“Yes.” Seth answers and looks Dean directly in the eye. “Him and I have a little _thing_ going. He's very good with his mouth.”

He feels his fist tighten in his lap, knows Seth said that to get under his skin. And, by all accounts, it works, a pang of unwarranted jealousy hits his chest. He has to swallow it down. 

It's Roman who speaks next. “Can you get us into his mansion?”

Seth sniffs a laugh. “Oh, _now_ you need me? I thought I was scum?” Then, “Give me your cell phone.”

“Why?” Dean asks.

“Just do it before I change my mind.”

Though Roman gives bean a warning look and a shake of his head, Dean crosses the room and hands Seth his cell phone. Seth takes it and brushes his fingers against Dean's when he does so, definitely not an accident if the grin is any indication. Dean waits close by while Seth dials a practiced number and puts the phone on speaker. It's a couple seconds before the person on the other end answers. 

_“Hello?”_ the voice is heavily accented and surprisingly deep. _“Who is this?”_

“Is that anyway to greet me, Mi amore?”

Dean and Roman roll their eyes in unison.

_“Seth! It's good to hear from you! It's been too long!”_

“How are you, Alberto?”

_“I'm well! I've missed you. Where have you been?”_

Seth looks up at Dean with a smirk. “Oh, you know how it is. Been tied up a bit lately. Listen, a few friends and I are going to be in Rio in a few days and I'd like to see you.”

_“I'd like that! I'm throwing a black tie party Saturday. I'd like you and your friends to join me.”_

“That would be wonderful.” Seth says and gives Dean a flirty wink meant to get under his skin. “I can't wait to _catch up_.”

_“Seth, you tease.”_

“Always.” Seth says and instructs Del Rio to text the information to this number. He makes a few other suggestive comments, but thanks him and ends the call, handing the phone back to Dean with a self satisfied smile on his smug face. “You're welcome.”

“I don't even want to know.” Dean says. 

“What? That he likes to be spanked? That he is really into pain?”

Dean lets out a disgusted noise. “Oh, let me guess, he pays you handsomely for it too?”

“Maybe.” Seth answers without missing a beat. Then drags his eyes over Dean and observes him for a long, uncomfortable moment. 

“What?”

Seth grins up at him. “Do you own a tux?”


	7. Chapter 7

How did he get himself into these situations? 

Seth had managed to talk him into buying a tuxedo, and he felt extremely out of his element in it. Thankfully, Dean managed to talk him out of a bow tie and into a sleek black tie instead. He also had to buy one for Seth and, try as he might, he couldn't help but stare as the tailor measured him. 

Fuck, he didn't want to feel this way again. Not for Seth. He wanted to hate him, wanted to destroy him, wanted to see him brought down off that pedestal he'd been put on by everyone he'd ever met. Damn him for making Dean want him again, even with his smug ego and snobbish ways. Maybe it was the memory of how things used to be, nostalgia for the man who had saved his life with a kiss and captured his heart with a smile. 

That's not what Seth was now.

And that hurt more than he thought it would.

The night of the black tie came and Dean just wants to crawl in a hole and forget this whole thing. It had been decided earlier that rather than Roman join them on the inside, he'd watch the outside perimeter while disguised as their driver. Dean had almost balked at that, but he couldn't afford another suit and they would need eyes on the outside in case any Authority showed up. So Roman went to do what he does best, find them a car. 

Dean made Seth dress first and his mouth went dry when he emerged from the bathroom, the tuxedo hugging every curve and dip of his body, his hair was pulled back into a sleek bun at the nape of his neck, and the smirk on his face when his eyes met Dean's had the other swallowing hard. He knew he looked good. The bastard. 

Dean cuffed his one wrist to the bed again and ignored the suggestive look he was getting, like Seth got all dressed up just so Dean could tear it off piece by piece. The thought had crossed his mind. He'd love to destroy all those crisp lines of Seth suit, rumple that perfect hair. Somehow, he pulls himself away and starts dressing. He gets as far as the pants, shirt, and vest before he hits a snag.

He'd never learned how to tie a tie. It wasn't exactly a useful skill when you're trying to survive in a shitty city.

“Do you need help with that?” Seth asks, watching him with that look. 

“No.” Dean huffs. 

“It looks like you need help.” 

“I can do it.” He lies and Seth shakes his head. 

It takes trying and failing several more times before Seth asks again and this time Dean has to relinquish his pride and let Seth help him. He walks over to the cuffed man and waits as Seth stands. Then his captive waves his one free hand at him and smiles. “I can't do it one handed.”

Another huff and Dean releases Seth's wrist. A smirk and Seth gently pulls the tie free of Dean's neck. He arranges it in his hand and then lays it across the back of Dean's neck. Dean watches Seth's face the entire time, noting every line in his skin, every twitch of his eyebrows as he skillfully weaves the fabric at Dean's neck, the way that smirk is still lifting the corner of his mouth. Dean wants to kiss him and doesn't know where he finds the willpower not to. 

When Seth finishes, he smooths his hands down Dean's chest in a way that could be him just pressing down wrinkles, but most definitely wasn't. Dean let's him, let's him button his vest and tuck the tie into it. 

“This looks good on you.” He says and smiles up at Dean through his eyelashes. “You have the perfect body for a suit like this. Long and lean, thin waist, perfect ass…”

“Stop.” Dean says and captures Seth's wrist before he could stick his hand down his pants to feign tucking his shirt in. “Just, stop.”

Seths smile falters slightly, but he does stop and drops his hands to his sides. “Fine. But just so you know, I'd let you fuck me right now if you asked.”

The sound of the ratchet falling back into place around Seth's wrist drew his attention down and Seth sighed. 

“I'll pass.” Says Dean with a smirk.

“Your loss.” Seth says and wiggles his eyebrows. “Unless you'd like me to fuck you instead. Put these cuffs to good use.”

“So you can tie me to the bed and run again?” Says Dean and steps away before he does something stupid. 

“You've already got it the other way around.” Seth says with a wink, tugging playfully at the cuff. “I don't mind a bit of bondage, Deano. You know that.”

“Shut up, Seth.”

He huffs out a breath at being denied again and again. “Fine. Whatever.”

Dean finishes dressing, slicks back his hair with enough product to probably stop a bullet, and slings the jacket on and adjusts it on his shoulders. When he turns to look at Seth, there's an expression on the younger man's face that he's never seen. It would appear that Dean Ambrose had rendered Seth speechless if the wife eyed look and none to subtle swallowing was any indication. “What?”

Seths mouth opens and closes a few times before he answers. “I-I’ve never seen you in a tux.”

“Don't get used to it.” He responds as if he's annoyed, though that prideful warmth in his chest at the look on Seth's face is better than he could have expected. “Isn't much occasion for it in my line of work.” 

Seth cleared his throat, maybe in an effort to recalibrate his brain. Then that cool exterior is back, the smirk returning to his mouth. “Well, you'll definitely fit in.”

Before Dean could say anymore, Roman came back into the hotel room. He'd traded his usual attire for a pair of less assuming black jeans and a sleek sports coat. Dean had no idea where he'd gotten the coat, but with Roman it's usually better not to ask. 

“You two look like GQ models.” He laughs and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “I don't like it.”

“Yeah, and you look like an extra from a terrible 70’s mob movie.” Seth grumbles and Roman's laughter tapers off as he lunges forward. Dean's hand on his chest is the only thing that keeps him from wringing Seth's neck. 

“No time for that, Big Dog.” He says and Roman backs off with a snarl that Seth answered with a self satisfied grin and a mock salute just to piss him off. Dean give Seth a warning look, but there's really no point in trying to scold him, he's just going to keep pushing buttons because that's what he does. When he turns back to Roman, his bared teeth gave away his barely controlled anger. “Did you get a car?”

“Yes.” Roman growls out, but the tension in his jaw is starting to wane. 

“Did you get a good car?” He asks and Roman raises an eyebrow at him. It was a legitimate question. While Roman was exceedingly good at getting vehicles or other transportation, his judgement on quality or general safety wasn't the best. 

“I found a black Lincoln towncar, leather interior, tinted windows.”

It was Dean's turn to raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Figured you'd need to look the part.” Roman answers with a shrug. “Just don't ask me where I got it.”

Fair enough. 

It was getting late and they'd need to be at this function within the hour. He uncuffs Seth, and makes sure to remind him again that if he tries anything funny, he'd have no problem shooting him. 

To that, Seth shook his head and rolls his eyes. “Where am I going to go? You're the best shot I have at making it out alive.”

“That's debatable.” Roman chimes in. 

Seth glares at him, but doesn't acknowledge the comment any further. Instead he spoke to Dean. “Look, this is going to take a bit of trust on your part. You aren't used to this world, I am. Though it may pain you, you're going to have to follow my lead.”

He was right. Fuck he hated that fact. He only gives him a curt nod as an answer, and though he didn't look convinced, Seth nodded back. 

\---

Del Rios house, where this black tie affair was being held, was gigantic. In fact, that was an absolute understatement. The place looks more like it belongs in the rolling hills of the English countryside instead of a city like Rio. It had to stand ten stories with high stone arches that tapered to steeple points. The well manicured garden that they drove through was no slouch either, spanning in front of the building like something out of a medieval drama. Lighted torches led the way to the entrance way, another stone arch complete with native plants, a juxtaposition of cultures. 

Roman pulls up and a valet opens the door on Dean's side to let them out. It takes a little shove from Seth before he actually moves. When Seth climbs out behind him, he immediately weaves his arm through Dean's elbow. The warning look Dean gives him isn't much of a deterrent and Seth holds on tighter when Dean tries to pull away and leans in to explain that Del Rio is an extremely jealous man. He'll see Seth hanging on someone else and want to cut in, causing a distraction for Dean to go find the object. 

“You have an overinflated sense of your own worth.” Dean scoffs which causes Seth to frown. 

“And a street dog like you has no idea what you're doing.”

Dean squeezes Seth's arm hard, feeling better when his ‘date’ yelps out a bit in pain. 

“This place is gigantic, Seth.” He says when they reach the ludicrously large double doors, nodding to the doorman when Seth shows the invitation on the phone. “It'll take all night to even find it.”

“He's an avid collector.” Says Seth. “He's got an entire gallery space on the third floor wing dedicated to it. If the object is going to be anywhere, it'll be there.”

They follow directions to the lavish ballroom where the party was already in full swing. The place was a mass of people in evening gowns and tuxedos all mingling with each other while waiter and staff distributed champagne and h'orderves on large silver trays. Music is playing loudly through the hall while guests danced and talked to one another. It was at this moment that Dean realizes that he is extremely out of his element.

Seth grabs two of the champagne glasses and hands one to Dean. “You look like you need that.”

He takes it and drinks the whole thing down in one gulp while Seth looks on in snobbish horror. “Thanks.”

“Who the hell taught you manners?” Seth says, aghast. Then he takes a sip and wrinkles up his nose at the taste. “Serving cheap champagne?”

“Like that's the worst thing you've ever had in your mouth.” Dean cracks a smile while Seth frowns at him. 

Still arm in arm, they are shown their table and sit down. Dean keeps a tight hand on Seth's forearm, knowing that all the slimy son of a bitch would need was a small opening and he'd be gone. “Do you see Del Rio?”

Seth cranes his neck to try and get a better look through the crowd. It takes him a minute, but he finally subtly points through the people to a spot toward the back of the room. “There. By the steps.”

Dean follows Seth's direction and finds the man easily, talking to three other men. However, he was looking over at them with a strange sort of expression that Dean couldn't quite place, a sort of scrunched up confusion while still trying to be civil with whomever he was speaking to. Maybe Seth was right. 

He hated even thinking it. 

The music suddenly shifts from an upbeat tune to a song Dean hadn't heard in years, not since Seth left. If they had a song that might be classified as _theirs_ , this would be it. He remembers being on a small rented ship in the Caribbean, back when Seth was his everything, the sun just beginning to set, radio playing some local station while they lounged with beers. Elvis’ ‘I Can't Help Falling In Love With You’ came on and Dean had offered his hand to Seth. They danced to that song like they were the only two people on earth, bodies close, gentle kisses shared between them. When it was over, they stared into each other's eyes and he's been so overcome with his feelings for Seth that he blurted out those magical words, the first one of them to say it. I love you. 

Now, in this space, with whatever he felt for the man he betrayed him, the song seemed to still hold that magic. A glance at Seth, his eyes soft with a small smile, a genuine smile, he looked so much like Dean had remembered him. When he looks up, their eyes meeting, that warmth he had once held for him begins to creep into his chest. 

“You should dance with me.” Seth says, his voice low and soft. 

So much had gone one between them, so much unwarranted hatred, that he couldn't do it. Not now, not here, not to this song. “I can't.”

“C’mon.” Seth nudges his shoulder. “It'll make Del Rio jealous.”

He looks over at the host and he's still watching them closely. An exasperated huff and Dean stands and holds out his hand to Seth, who takes it and lets Dean lead him to the dance floor where other couples are already swaying to the tune. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”

_Wise men say, only fools rush in._   
_But I can't help falling in love with you._

He places his hand on Seth's waist and takes his other while Seth places his on Dean's shoulder. 

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?_   
_If I can't help falling in love with you._

“Are we at a middle school dance?” Seth says with a small chuckle and Dean can't help but glare at him. They were pretty far apart, not exactly convincing if they were trying to make someone jealous enough to distract them. So Dean begrudgingly pulls Seth by the waist until their bodies are flush with one another. 

_Like a River flows, surely to the sea._   
_Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be._

It's strange to hold Seth like this, the warmth of their bodies so close, the song gently wafting over them like it was written just for them. That warmth in his chest starts to build and spread as they swayed slowly. 

Seth is looking him right in the eyes, his own expression soft, but there was definitely a sort of conflict playing in his features. It was like he didn't know what he wanted to feel. His grip tightens on Dean's shoulder, like he is trying to pull him closer, and he presses their foreheads together. 

It's like they're back on that stupid little rented boat, swaying in the warm tropical breeze, the only two people on the planet. All the hate, all the history between them melts away for a few moments and they can just be. 

_Take my hand. Take my whole life too._   
_For I can't help falling in love with you._

The song ends, shifting to a more upbeat tune, but they stay close, holding one another like if they part everything might crumble around them. It takes all his willpower not to kiss Seth right then and there because, if he did, he'd just be walking into a world of pain he couldn't take. Not again. 

“You know, you were right about one thing.” Seth says quietly, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

“Yeah?”

“I did miss this.”

Dean smiles and breathes a small laugh. “Do you know the hardest part of how things ended between us?”

Seth pulls back and looks him directly in the eye. He seems hesitant, like he doesn't want Dean to say it and, for a second, he considers just letting it go. Yet, when he opens his mouth to continue, he feels a hand on his shoulder, forcing the moment to end. 

“Can I cut in?” 

It's Del Rio, his eyes locked on Seth who has recovered remarkably quickly, an excited grin lifting the corners of his mouth. “Absolutely, mi amore!” 

Dean, though reluctant, steps away. It's hard to watch Seth hang all over another man, watch him flirt and smile and touch. But it's better this way, especially with whatever moment they had shared over and the reality of whatever his relationship with Seth had become hit him again. They weren't back on that shitty little dingy in the Caribbean, they were here as enemies. Seth may as well have taken a steel chair to his back for how things ended between them. It's hard to forgive something like that, even if the warmth seemed to linger in his chest. 

While he's hugging Del Rio, Seth gives Dean a wide eyed nod as if to say ‘go, you idiot. I got this.’ 

He almost doesn't, reluctant to let Seth out of his sight. But, even with the uncertainty of whether or not Seth would still be here when he returned, he does, but not before giving Seth one last look. The younger man offers him a small smile, reassuring, and Dean goes. 

Seth had said that Del Rio had a gallery space on the third floor, so that's where he needs to go. The problem was, the security that this man had was blocking every stairwell and hallway to keep everyone in the ballroom. Plus, they were armed...heavily. 

Had they been there before? 

Something was wrong. Something didn't feel right. He felt the sudden need to get out of there, like something big was about to happen and they shouldn't be here when it does. 

Taking wary steps back into the crowd, Dean finds Seth still hanging all over Del Rio. He approaches and gently touches Seth's arm. He can tell by the way Seths eyes widen that he knows something has gone wrong. “We should go.”

Seth smiles at Del Rio who looks at Dean like he might just punch him in the face for interrupting them. But Seth takes his face in his hands and kisses him. That jealousy creeps into his body even if he doesn't have a right to be jealous. But, there it is. It takes everything he has not to pull Del Rio off and punch him square in the gut, even if it was Seth who initiated the kiss. 

“I'm sorry,” he says when they part and locks eyes with Dean. “My friend hasn't been feeling well today, it's messing with his head.”

Dean ignores that comment because he can see more men starting to funnel in. It's quiet, calculated, like it's been planned ahead of time. If they didn't leave now, they most certainly will regret it. 

When Seth moves away from Del Rio, Dean takes his hand and, with a small nod of thanks to their host, pulls him behind him toward the exit. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?” He hears Seth say. 

He stops short so he can look Seth in the face. “Look around. What do you see?”

“People.”

“Look at the doors.”

Seth does and his eyes widen. It's finally clocked that something was wrong. “Ok, yeah, let's go.”

They make it all of five feet before the sound of gunfire and surprises screaming makes them stop in their tracks. They look toward the source and both he and Seth gasp. They were fucked.

“Can I have your attention, please!” Triple H, Hunter Hearst Helmsley himself, was grinning over the crowd of frightened people. He'd never actually met the man in person, but from what he knew about him, he was an imposing figure that commanded attention and respect from anyone he came into contact with. Now, seeing him standing there in an expensive suit that barely wrapped around the obvious muscle below, a grin on his face, Dean could see that none of that was bullshit. 

The Authority was here. 

“I'm sorry to interrupt this little get together, but I'm looking for two men.” Helmsley continues, dangerous eyes scanning the crowd. “I have it on good Authority that they are here.”

Dean grabs Seth hard by the arm. “Did you do this?”

“How?” Seth snaps back. “I haven't left your side in days! When would I have time to do this?”

Helmsley's voice drew their attention away. “Would Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins please come forward?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Del Rio shouts from somewhere in the crowd. Helmsley shoots him without a second thought, causing the crowd to react in fear. Even Dean and Seth jumped. However, Helmsley had just murdered the only person who knew they were here. 

“Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins.” Triple H repeats. “I know you're hiding somewhere.”

Neither one of them move. 

“Fine.” Helmsley grits out and motions for someone behind him. A man appears holding a gun to Roman's head. “If they don't make themselves known by the count of three, I'm shooting him. One…”

Dean's mind is reeling. What were they supposed to do? If they don't give in, Roman is dead. If they do, all three of them probably were. 

“Two…”

He watches Roman squeeze his eyes closed. Fuck! They were fucked! FUCKED! The man with the gun to his head pulls the hammer back, ready to fire. Just when Dean makes his mind up, it's Seth who beats him to the punch.

“Stop!”

Helmsley grins. “There you are.”

Two men grab them and push them forward until they're standing right in front of the Authority leader. “I've been tracking you two for a while now.”

The two men push them to their knees. Dean offers Roman a small smile that the big man doesn't reciprocate. “Are you alright?”

Roman looks up at Triple H and the man holding him let's go. Roman stands up straight and smooths out his jacket and grins. “Better than alright.”

The realization that he had been played hits him like a truck. Motherfucker. The sting of the betrayal his worse than he could imagine. Roman Reigns was working for the Authority? Roman Reigns was the one tipping them off? His best friend? The one he would take a bullet for?

“It was you?” Seth asks at Dean's side while he's in shock. “Well, FUCK! I goddamn told you it wasn't me!”

“Shut up, Seth!” Roman snaps at him and takes a gun from the man behind him, pointing it at Rollins. “I've been wanting to end you for years.”

“Roman, stop.” Triple H says and comes to stand next to him. “We need them.”

“No, we need _him_.” Roman corrects and indicates toward Dean.

“Not your call, Reigns!” Helmsley snaps and Roman finally backs off. He crouched in front of Dean and looks his right in the eye. “I bet you thought this whole time that your enemy was Rollins, correct?”

“Fuck you.”

Helmsley grins wider. “See, it was Roman who tipped Seth off anonymously, not Cesaro. It was Roman who called us at Chichen Itza. It was Roman who set this whole thing up. How's it feel to be a pawn? Played by your own best friend. It must be difficult for you. Everyone you've ever trusted has betrayed you.”

“Dean, don't listen to -” Seth is cut off by a wicked backhand from Helmsley. 

"As for you," he says to Seth. "You stole a lot of money from me. I intend to make you pay it back in kind before I finally put a bullet through your skull. That's what your good at, right? Consider it a business transaction."

“Now,” Helmsley continues and turns his attention back to Dean, who's glaring at him with as much anger as he could manage. “Were going to take a walk upstairs for this second piece, then you and your boy toy are coming with us to find the others. You are going to get us to El Dorado.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Sit down!” 

It's yelled at him mere seconds before he's shoved into an uncomfortable folding chair by Roman. With his hands cuffed in front of him, it was pretty difficult to really resist like he wanted to, so he resigned himself to glaring daggers at Triple H, leaning on the ludicrously large wooden desk, sneering down at him like he had the upper hand in all of this. Whether he did or not was irrelevant because Dean was going to make him pay. Both stone objects sat on the desk surface along with Dean's bag and belongings, including the suit jacket he somehow lost between the mansion and where he was now.

After Del Rios, he and Seth were cuffed and led to the docks where a ridiculously large yacht was waiting. The thing would probably give cruise ships a run for their money in size, and probably luxury. But men like Triple H - rich enough to wipe their asses with hundred dollar bills - didn't care. The bigger the better. Dean just assumed it was just because they were compensating for a lack of size in other departments. A good look at Triple H, in his expensive suit pants and tailored dress shirt, barely a wrinkle in either, told him that he was probably right. 

Once they'd been pushed onto the ship, that's when Dean lost track of Seth; both of them being pulled to opposite directions. On any normal day, the thought of Seth getting his comeuppance for what he did gave Dean a happy little tingle. However, recent reemergence of feelings for the man he loved once upon a time, and the fact that Seth has proven to be more trustworthy than the man he would have called his best friend a few hours ago, had his emotions all jumbled. He wasn't too thrilled at the idea of Hunter Helmsley getting his creepy little paws on him in any capacity.

“Ambrose, we can make this easy.” Helmsley continues, far too calm for this to end well. He digs in Dean's bag for a few seconds and comes up with Regals journal. “You are going to be my guide.”

“Fat chance, asshole.” And Dean is met with a vicious backhand from Roman. Despite how much that actually hurt, he smiles and licks at the fresh cut on his lip. Then, grinning up at his former partner, he snorts. “You hit like a bitch.”

Another backhand, far harder than the first, almost has Dean toppling out of the chair. Roman grabs his face before he can fall over and makes Dean look at him. “This cocky attitude is just a fucking facade, Ambrose. You really think you're in a position to mouth off?”

“You know me better than anyone, Reigns.” He grinds out between clenched teeth, wincing as fingers dig deeper into his jaw. “Did you expect any less?”

Roman let's go with a shove, looks like he might punch him this time. Dean looks him right in the eyes, challenging him to do it because he of all people should know the kind of punishment Dean can take before he gives up. But he doesn't swing, he steps aside. It’s Triple H in his face now, off the desk and leaning in close. “I know the journal is in code. Regal was nothing if not paranoid. All you have to do it decode it for me and find me that city.”

Dean smirks. “No.”

“No?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Hunter looks at Roman, and there's the punch he's been waiting for, right to the jaw. God, he forgot just how hard Roman could hit when he's really trying. It was so hard that, not only could he taste blood, he spit a molar onto the floor. But again, he comes up smiling with what he was sure was blood stained teeth. Another hard punch and this time he actually falls off the chair, barely catching himself with his cuffed hands. 

“C’mon, Dean.” He heard Roman say over him while he tries to shake that killer punch off and clear his vision a little. “Make this easy on yourself.” 

“The answer is still no.” He chuckles from the floor, dabbing at his now bleeding nose when he meets Roman's eyes again. “And, I'd like to add a ‘fuck you’ to that you traitorous son of a-”

The boot to his gut knocks the air from his lungs immediately and he's left gasping for breath on the carpet. It takes a good minute before he's able to catch his breath and roll onto his back. “You didn't let me finish,” he gasps out. “Traitorous son of a bitch!”

Another kick has him curling into himself in a weak attempt to protect his ribs. It's Triple H that stops the beating before it can go any further. He crouches down to Dean's level and observes him like one might observe a wounded animal, sympathetic and itching to put it out of its misery. “How many pieces are left?”

Dean doesn't answer. 

He asks again, calm and cool. “How many pieces, Dean?”

“Three thousand.” Dean lies and grins up at the man who very literally held his life in his hands. “Give or take.”

“These games of yours are boring.” Helmsley sighs and stands. “I have far better _things_ to play with than you.” Then he looks at Roman. “Put him somewhere he can think about his predicament. Make sure it's uncomfortable.”

Roman's strong hands lift him to his feet like it's nothing and shove him out of the room. Once in the hallway, Roman never lets his hand leave Dean's shoulder no matter how many times he tries to shrug him off. 

Roman, the turncoat he was, didn't even look sorry for what he did. He was like a little soldier, taking orders from Triple H like a little puppy. Dean wondered just what he'd been promised to make him turn on his best friend like this? What was the motivation that now made him an enemy? After all they'd been through, all the blood, sweat, and tears, he throws his lot in with the Authority. He's no better than Seth had been all those years ago, and it hurt just as bad. 

When Dean asks him these questions, he's met with nothing but a hard shove that almost sends him down the grated steps he's being led down. “It's none of your business.”

“I think it is my business.” Dean says. “You betrayed me for a reason, I want to know why.”

“Maybe you don't deserve it.”

To that Dean snorts a laugh. Yeah, he's the one who doesn't deserve it. That's rich. 

They continue making their way to the bottom of the ship where luxury turns into cold, grey steel, the sounds of heavy machinery, and little to no protection from the heat the pipes produced. He could already feel himself sweating through the dress shirt he was still wearing. 

His thoughts turn to Seth then and the idea of what Triple H was doing to him. He's known Seth for a long time, knows what he's capable of, knows he can make a man feel what he wants him to feel, but also couldn't shake the look in his eyes when he's separated from Dean. He was afraid. Despite the misgivings he's had about his former lover, no one deserves what was about to happen to him. No one. 

He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that when he feels a hard shove through a door too small for either of them to fit through without ducking their heads, he almost whacks his face on the steel. He hears Roman chuckle behind him, but easily ignores it. They come to a door where two of Helmsley's men are standing by. They're both gigantic, standing much taller than Dean and Roman. That was going to make escape difficult, though not impossible. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. 

“Kane. Braun.” Roman nods to each of them and the one named Kane opens the door to allow Roman to shove Dean through. 

The room - closet? - he's in is small, maybe five foot square with pipes cutting across every flat surface. It was also ungodly hot. When he turns to face Roman, he's met with a small sneer from his former friend. “This should be perfect.”

Dean smirks back. Never show them they have the upper hand, keep them guessing. “I've been in worse.”

Roman grabs Dean's cuffed wrists and drags him to one of the pipes, undoing the restraints just long enough to get Dean's hands wrapped around the steel. “I'm not stupid, Dean.” He says after a second or two. “I know you're going to try and escape. But remember, you're on a boat. Where can you escape to?”

“Don't underestimate me, Ro.” He replies. “You know what happens when people underestimate me.”

Roman only sniffs a laugh and moves to leave. 

“Where's Seth?” Dean asks before he can get far and Roman stops just before he reaches the door, back stiff and a low snarl coming from deep in his chest. 

“It's always been Seth, hasn't it?” He growls and turns to face Dean. “I've always been second fiddle to that lowlife, even after he betrayed you, betrayed us. You just can't stop thinking with your dick, can you?” 

“Is that why you did this? Jealously?”

“No, that's not why, but you have always held him higher than me. He's just some whore you fell for and yet, even after he turns on you, you _still_ would choose over me.”

“You know that isn't true. You were my best friend, Roman. I'd have taken a bullet for you!” Dean snaps back, adjusting his hands around the pipe. “But, in a strange turn of events, it would appear that that he is the only person I can trust. So where is he?”

Roman snorts a small, dismissive laugh. “Why? It's not like it's going to matter.” 

That's when Dean smirks, the one he knew Roman would recognize, the one that means a plan is forming and it's going to be spectacularly bad for someone and Dean doesn't care who. “Because I'd like to know where to find him when I escape. It'll make things easier than taking this whole ship apart piece by piece.”

Roman chuckles and shakes his head. “You have an overinflated sense of your own abilities.”

But there was something in Roman's eyes that spoke to the anxiousness at knowing exactly what Dean was capable of, because Roman has seen it first hand for years. This makes Dean's smirk ruck up a little higher. “Is that so?”

Roman says nothing more but there's a long, tense moment where the two of them stare each other down. Then, Roman leaves Dean alone. The last thing he does is shut off the light, leaving Dean in complete darkness and with nothing but his thoughts and the time to formulate a plan. In all honesty, Roman should know better then to leave him to his own devices. He can hear Roman instruct two of Triple H’s men to keep a watch on the door. 

“This isn't over, Roman!” Dean yells and he knows his former friend hears him because his heavy booted footsteps hesitate. “Expect me to take you all down for this!”

Roman's footsteps don't move for several beats and Dean knows he's made his point. When Roman moves off, Dean kicks at the hull, frustrated and angry. “Fuck!”

He had to get out of here, get off this goddamn ship, beat them to El Dorado. But he couldn't do it alone, he'd need Seth. Besides, his feelings for the man aside, he couldn't just _leave_ him to whatever fate Helmsley had in store for him. 

This was going to take some planning, so he couldn't escape just yet. He'd need to wait, pay attention to exits and patterns, find where they might be keeping the objects and his stuff, find Seth, then make a break for it. He slid down the hull until he was sitting, arms uncomfortably stretched above his head in this hot as fuck room. 

He'd have to wait this out, at least for now, and hope that Triple H didn't hurt Seth too much. Seth was smart, he'd know to play to what Helmsley wanted, hopefully that would save him until Dean could get to him. 

He breathed a heavy sigh and leaned his head back against the wall. “God, I am so fucked.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit of a dark turn so I adjusted the tags accordingly.

He doesn't know how long he’s stuck in this sauna of a closet; could be an hour, could be days. All he knows is that he needed air, cool air that wasn't steamy heat radiating through the room virtually cooking him in his skin. His hair and clothes were soaked through with sweat and his skin was pruning from constant moisture. The heat made it virtually impossible to breathe, to think, to do anything other than sit there and wait for something to happen. 

Then there was the headache, the constant throbbing in his temples that could only be the early signs of dehydration. It made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the pounding in his head. If they left him like this, the way he's been sweating buckets, it was only a matter of time before his body just gave out. 

He's been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while now. He would catch his head dropping to his chest and wake up a few minutes later - or so he assumed - with more pain in his head, neck, and arms. Well, if Triple H wanted him uncomfortable, he sure as hell achieved that goal. 

He was still pretty out of it when he vaguely hears the door to the room open. Light floods the space and shot through his eyes like shards of glass into his retinas and he has to squeeze his eyes shut against the pain. Hands on his jaw lift his head up and bleary, unfocused eyes meet Roman's. He looks concerned, turning Dean's face from side to side as if inspecting him, crouching down to his level with a bottle of water in his hand. 

“You stink.” Is what he says and Dean just wants to strangle him. Despite the aching need to tell Roman to go fuck himself, he can't manage much more than a hard scowl at him. Roman grins at that. Then he tips Dean's head back, forces his mouth open and pours water down his throat. He really had no way to brace for it and immediately chokes, coughing and sputtering as the liquid made its way down his gullet and into his nose. “There you go. Can't have you dying, now can we?”

Roman lets go of his face and Dean tries to catch his breath against the coughs still wracking through him, trying to get the water out that has slipped into his lungs. God, his chest burned but he could already feel that throbbing in his head begin to subside. Good, at least now he could think. 

Roman is again grinning at him. “You ready to cooperate?”

Dean is still staring at him with all the frustrated malice he could manage, absolutely no intention of cooperating in the slightest. Based on the look on his traitorous friends face, he knows it too. Good.

Roman reaches up and releases his arms and he grunts against the stiffness and pain in his shoulders. He just manages to catch a hint of concern wash over Roman's face, a minute widening of his eyes and an almost imperceptible move forward like he wanted to make the pain stop. He doesn't though. As quick as it's there, it's gone and he's cuffing Dean's hands in front of him again. He does, however, hold out the bottle of water until Dean takes it and downs the last of the cool liquid on his own. Then he pulls him to his feet and shoves him toward the door. 

It's tough to climb the steps out of the belly of the ship, and Roman has to pull him to his feet more than once, but the higher they got the cooler the air became and Dean feels more stable with every ascended stair. It feels like only minutes before he's back in that fucking overly decorated office, back in that uncomfortable folding chair, back being scrutinized by Triple H and his stupid lopsided smirk. Dean notices something different though, bruising on his knuckles like he's been fighting. 

“Are we feeling more compliant, Dean?” He chuckles, talking in the state of his captive. “24 hours in that room would make anyone more mailable.”

Dean manages a defiant smirk and internally congratulates himself on getting Triple H to look shocked. But his voice is weak, broken, cracks more than he'd like it to when he speaks, even if he tries to keep his tone insolent. “Yeah, well, I'm not anyone.” 

“You really are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?”

“It's a gift.”

Triple H sighs and holds up Regals journal again. Dean simply eyes it, keeping his face still and calm. “Decode this.”

“No.” 

“What's the difference if we find it or you do?” He says, leaning down and tapping Dean on the top of the head with the leather book hard enough to make him wince. “Do it and we’ll give you partial credit for the find.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Roman stand up straighter, a look on his face like Triple H had just insulted him with that one statement. It hits Dean then what Roman was promised, exactly what Helmsley had just offered him. He could take it, really mess with Reigns, still get his name attached to the find, but where was the honor in that? Besides, that would do nothing but give them what they want, a win. Dean snorts a laugh at the thought. 

Helmsley crosses his arms over his chest. “Something funny?” 

“Yeah, you.” Dean answers, that smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. “What exactly do you take me for? Some kinda chump? I ain't Roman, your offers won't work. So, you sir, can suck my dick!”

The punch to the face isn't entirely unexpected, but the fact that it came from Triple H was a surprise. If he thought Roman hit hard, Helmsley was a fucking sledgehammer. When he manages to recover, he spits blood and spit onto the carpet and faces his captor again. “Hurt me all you want. I ain't changin’ my mind.”

Helmsley sneers down at him for several long seconds, just studying him. “You think that was meant to hurt you? No, that was for being a disrespectful little shit.”

Dean watches him carefully as he steps behind his desk and opens a drawer. He half expects the man to come out with a gun or knife or some other means to punish him and he flinches. It's not a physical weapon, but a tablet, and he taps on the screen before he holds it up for Dean to see. “ _This_ is to hurt you.”

It's Seth. He's dressed in the suit pants and shirt he had been wearing, but like Dean, he was missing his jacket, vest, and tie. He didn't look any worse for wear, pacing in the middle of a room, empty save for the bed that his ankle was cuffed to, like he was waiting for something to happen. Dean could guess what he was about to be shown and tries to head Triple H off at the pass. “What makes you think I care what happens to him?”

It's a lie. He knows it and so does Roman and Helmsley. “Oh, you care.” Triple H says with a knowing little smirk. “You'll always care about Seth Rollins. Roman has filled us in on everything.”

The door opens to the room Seth is in and he can see his eyes widen as he backs up toward the wall. That's when Dean realizes this isn't live because the person Seth is backing away from is Triple H himself. 

_“Seth, Seth, Seth.”_ The Triple H on the screen chides, crowding Seth against the wall. _“Did you think I wouldn't find out about the stones? Did you think you'd get away with it? Did you think you were safe?”_

Seth smiles at him, a flirty grin that Dean knows is only for show, only a weak attempt to backpedal. _“Hunter, I -”_

Helmsley's hand shoots out and grabs Seth by the neck, pushing him back against the wall with a sickening _crack_ when his skull connects. He must be squeezing because Seth isn't speaking anymore, he's clawing at the fingers twisted around his throat in some desperate attempt at releasing the pressure. 

_“Poor little Seth.”_ Helmsley coos, licking a stripe up Seth's cheek. _“Always thinks he has it all figured out. But let me tell you what I've figured out. You're nothing but a sad little whore who slept his way to the top and is now going to be put back in his place.”_

Dean snarls and looks away from the small screen, having no desire to watch anymore, but Roman immediately grabs him and forces his head back up.

The Helmsley on the screen let's Seth go and he falls to the floor gasping and coughing as he drew in breath after breath. Then, when he's able to, he says something Dean would have never expected. 

_“Where's Dean?”_

Both Triple H’s laugh at how desperate it sounds, how genuinely worried someone who was supposed to hate him is acting. _“Why do you care? Aren't you the one who sold him out all those years ago?”_ then he grabs a hold of his hair, and forces Seth to his knees. The hand tangled in his locks wrenching Seth's head up and all he can do is take it. _“Tell me again how you did it? How you betrayed the only person who ever loved you? Who saw you as more than a warm body?”_

_“Hunter, please…”_

_“Fine, then let me remind you.”_ he pulls Seth to his feet by the hair and damn near throws him onto the bed. Seth is trying to scramble away, trying desperately. Hunter gets his hands on the back of his shirt and pulls, forcing Seth up against his chest where he can get his hand around his neck again. Then, with his other hand, he begins slowly unbuttoning Seth's shirt. _“Remember our deal? Get rid of that lowlife and work for me, I'd make all your dreams come true. Then you turn around and steal a small fortune. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.”_

With the hand at his throat, it was painfully obvious that Seth was beginning to fade. His fingers clawing at Hunters weren't moving as quickly as they should, his left having already fallen to his side. Dean didn't think this would affect him like it was. The sting of hot tears were prickling at the corner of his eyes even as he tried to stay calm, to not let them see just how much this was tearing his heart out piece by piece. Seeing Seth get assaulted, be hurt and degraded, it was painful, more painful than any punch he had received. Based on the look on Triple H’s face, he knew he'd gotten under Dean's skin. He was completely devoid of remorse, smirking triumphantly down at him as the video progresses. 

The odd thing was how he could feel Roman's hands trembling while they held his head still. Did this affect him just as much? He and Seth had been friends once and, despite how many times he'd threatened to shoot him, Dean never thought Roman would go through with it. But his hands held firm and Dean was forced to continue to watch. 

He noticed something strange about the hand Seth had dropped to his side. His fingers were twitching. It wasn't random movement either, it was rhythmic, the same beat over and over. Morse code? Did Seth know he was being recorded? He must have because he was signaling to someone who might have seen it, someone who would know, to Dean. He'd taught Seth the skill not long after they started traveling together. They would tap messages to each other on an arm or a leg, little quiet notes between them. Neither of the other men seem to notice it. 

_Cabin 2._

He was taping it over and over again against his leg. Was that his location? Was that where the stones were? What was in cabin two? 

The Helmsley on the screen finally lets go of Seth's neck and pitches him forward. Gasping and wheezing, he does try to get away, but it's weak. It's nothing for Triple H to get his shirt off and flip him onto his back. Somehow, Seth gathers enough energy to land what looks like a nasty right hook to Helmsley's jaw. It startled him and Dean laughs, chest filling with pride at Seth's defiance. However, it's short lived because Seth is in no position to really defend himself. The first blow from Helmsley hits his jaw, then his temple and Seth is dazed. But the heavy punches continues and Triple H’s bruised knuckles make sense. 

Helmsley stops the footage and sits the tablet down onto the desk, smirking like he'd won. “I think you've seen enough. I'll leave the rest to your imagination. However, I will say, he said your name a lot. Now, decode this journal.” 

He doesn't know where he finds the power, but Dean gives Helmsley a rebellious grin mere seconds before he slips out of Roman's grip and lunges forward. He manages to catch him in the gut and sends both of them tumbling over the wooden desk to the floor. His momentum gives him the upper hand and he lands on top of the Authority leader. Immediately he gets the chain of the cuffs to his throat and presses down, determined to choke him to death. 

The press of steel against the back of his head and he tenses, though did not relinquish his stranglehold on Helmsley. Dean ignored it because this bastard deserves to die, deserves to choke to death by Dean's own hand for what he was doing, for everything. Fuck him! Fuck triple H and his goddamn Authority! 

“Dean, let him go!” Roman demands and Dean can't help but sniff a laugh. He didn't let go, he pressed down harder, hard enough for a bruise to form at his neck. “Dean!”

Though Roman has a gun pressed to the back of his neck, he knows he won't fire. Friendships and betrayal aside, they needed Dean and he knew it. So, when a strong arm wraps around his waist, he anticipates it and shoots an elbow back to catch Roman in the cheekbone. He's fazed, but didn't let go. Instead, he manhandles the struggling, cursing, and growling Dean until he's pulled him completely off Helmsley. 

“Get him out of here!” Triple H wheezes and rubs at his neck.

Roman does by dragging Dean out the door of the office, through the ship, and back to that room where he shoves Dean through the door. It took Braun and Kane to hold him while Roman cuffed his arms around the pipe again. 

“I'll burn this goddamn ship to ashes!” He's screaming at the top of his lungs. “You fucked with the wrong person!”

“Leave him.” Roman says to the other men while Dean continues to tug and kick at each of them. “He'll wear himself out.”

“Fuck you, Roman!” Dean screams at the top of his lungs when the door closes. “He was your friend! This is on you!”

He was so angry! So infuriated at what they had done to them, to Seth. He was supposed to hate the man who betrayed him, but Seth had called out for him, had signaled for him while Helmsley worked him over. Seth still cared, and Dean felt the urge to save him, to forget everything that had happened. And he _would_ get them out of this, it was a promise. 

But he had to be out of this room first. 

Then destroy everyone.


	10. Chapter 10

He needs to get out. He needs to blow this entire ship to smithereens and damn whoever was still on board. He didn't care what happens to them, didn't care if any of these motherfuckers survived. 

God, poor Seth. What Helmsley had done to him was wholly unforgivable. He'd been fighting his feelings for the man for over a week now, fighting what had always been and will always be. Dean and Seth were connected, ever since that first meeting. It was like they were made for each other, made to be together no matter what one does to the other, no matter who hurt who. Hearing Seth ask about him, despite what Helmsley was doing to him, the concern there that he hadn't heard in ages, it hit him hard like a swift kick to the gut. Dean still loved him. He wasn't sure he'd ever really stopped. Seeing him hurt like that, assaulted, it tore at the last shred of resistance he had left in him. 

He couldn't let that continue. Nor could he let Hunter win. He would have to get the journal back, there was no question. He'd need it to find the city before the Authority could sink its grubby claws into it. So, he'd have to get back to that office and hope it was still there along with his stuff and the key stones. 

This escape was going to take some doing, and here he was, handcuffed to a pipe in the bowels of a fucking luxury yacht. When did his life become so complicated? Oh, right, when he was born. However, the one good thing about a misspent youth and a career in shady deals was that Dean Ambrose was nothing if not resourceful. 

The pipe Roman handcuffed his arms around wasn't the same as last time, it was thinner, though no less sturdy, and connected to the wall with brackets that _might_ come free with enough applied force. It was worth a shot, but would probably be loud enough for those two giants watching the door to hear and come investigating. Didn't matter, he had to try. 

He observes the pipe for a few seconds, trying to gauge the best way to attack this. Settling on a spot towards the end and close to one of the joints, he wraps his arm around the pipe so it's resting in the crook of his elbow and braces his foot on the wall. He allows himself a three count then _PULLS_. It's not quite budging but he isn't giving up, gritting his teeth at the effort it was taking. He braces both feet on the wall and uses his leg muscles to provide extra force. His elbow screaming, threatening to split at how much it was being forced to endure. Yet, the pipe was beginning to give; slowly but surely, the brackets holding it to the wall were starting to give up their purchase.

Just a little more, a few hard tugs, and the pipe sprang free from the wall and Dean landed hard on his back, knocking the air from his lungs when he connects with the grated metal. The pipe itself clangs when it hits the floor and he immediately hears one of the behemoths guarding him ask the other “What was that?” 

With no time to catch his breath, he pulls himself to his feet, grabs the loose metal pipe, and waits by plastering himself next to the door. He'd have to surprise them because shit if he was going to be able to take them both on alone with his hands cuffed together, even with the pipe as an equalizer. 

He waited until the door opens and they both step inside, looking shocked at finding nothing cuffed where it should be. That's when he strikes, landing a heavy blow to the back of the knees of the one named Kane, who fell to the floor with a pained cry. When Braun turns around in surprise, Dean attempts to swing the pipe into his chest only to have the giant of a man catch it mid arc with his enormous hand. 

“Fuck!” Dean manages about half a second before he's being rushed back against the wall, crying out when his back awkwardly connects with a pipe valve. The giant has him pinned there, the pipe still gripped tightly in his hand, like he's unsure what to do with the much smaller man he had pressed against the wall. 

With Kane stirring on the floor, Dean knew it was now or never and he was not above fighting dirty. All it took was bringing his knee up hard to the man's groin and he doubles over, letting Dean and the pipe go. One swing with the steel against the back of his head and he fell like a stone on top of Kane unconscious. With Kane pinned in place, Dean got the pipe under his chin and wrenched his head back. “Handcuff key?”

Kane didn't answer, probably because Dean had a pipe pressed against his throat. He pulled back harder to emphasise he was not to be fucked with right now when he asked again. Finally Kane motioned toward Braun and manages to squeak out the word “p-pocket”. Dean thanks him by knocking him unconscious. 

He dug in the big man's pockets until he came up with the small silver handcuff key and makes quick work of ridding himself of the restraints. He does, however, handcuff Braun and Kane together after checking their pockets for anymore useful items. He comes up with none. He guesses Roman and Triple H though two giants would be enough to stop Dean if he were to get free because neither were armed. It was fine, at least he had the pipe. 

Down in the bottom of the ship, there was lots of machinery he could use to sabotage this boat, and he had every intention on doing just that. He settles on the boiler, closing all the valves to allow the steam to build up, the pressure of which should create an explosion that would fuck this boat up. By his estimation, he should have about 20 minutes to find Seth, find the journal, find the key stones, and get the hell off this ship before it blows a hole in the hull big enough to sink her. 

Easy.

Maybe.

Following the path he had dragged through with Roman, Dean took the stairs up two at a time because he had no intention of being on this yacht when everything went to shit. He found the hallway, but stops as soon as he steps off the stairs. 

Cabin 2. 

He could keep going, could get his stuff and the stones before seeing just what Seth was signaling him for, but he couldn't just walk past this; Seth was probably behind this door. There's no one in the hallway so he tests the knob to find it unsurprisingly locked. He could fix that. He takes the pipe and uses the blunt end and knocks the door knob free. It easily swings open and he slips inside, closing it quietly behind him. 

It's the room from the video, nothing but four walls and the bed with rumpled and disturbingly bloody sheets. That's not what's important right now because huddled in the corner, knees drawn to his chest, face buried in his forearms, rocking back and forth, is Seth. He's naked, save for the black boxer briefs that Hunter apparently allowed him to keep; at least he gave him that small dignity. His skin is a mass of dried blood and bruises forming on his arms, legs, and what he can see of his chest. He'd wager his face wasn't much better. 

“Jesus, Seth.” He breathes quietly, voice cracking from the emotional toll at just seeing him broken like this. He could feel the tears beginning to sting at the corner of his eyes, could barely breathe from trying to keep them back. 

Seth hadn't lifted his head yet and, when Dean approaches him carefully, he doesn't seem to acknowledge any other presence in the room. He's tapping his fingers against his knee, that rhythmic Morse code he's used before. _I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry…_ over and over. 

It breaks his heart to see Seth like this. He'd been so cocky, arrogant, and sure of himself not two days ago and all it took was Hunter Helmsley to completely shatter that. Fuck, he seems so small in this space, so unlike that man who had sauntered into his hotel room in that black suit, back into his life like he belonged there. Fuck, he definitely belonged there. But here, Seth Rollins was a wounded animal just trying to survive. Hell, he even still had that goddamn ankle cuff attached like a fucking leash. 

“Seth?” He's careful, quiet, like anything above a whisper and Seth’ll shatter. There's no reaction, like he hadn't heard him speak. He reaches out a hand, but as soon as he gets close, Seth twitches away from him and further into the ball he'd curled himself into. It takes everything Dean has not to lose it. “Seth, can you hear me?”

Seth is still tapping his message on his knee, over and over, but does not answer him. He didn't really have time for this, but he couldn't just grab Seth. The last thing he needs is him panicking, screaming, making a scene because he doesn't recognize Dean - which it seems like he doesn't, so lost in his own space. So, rather than speak again, Dean begins tapping on the wall next to Seth's head. 

_look up_

Seth stops tapping his fingers. Slowly, like he's unsure, he raises his head from his arms and puffy, red rimmed, brown eyes meet blue. His face is so bruised he's almost unrecognizable. Dried blood and swollen skin make him hard to look at, especially when his eyes speak to the trauma he'd been through. “Dean?”

He only manages to smile before Seth throws his arms around his neck and holds on like Dean is the only thing keeping him from disintegrating into nothing. He's shuddering, his head is buried in Dean's shoulder and fingers wrap into the fabric at the back of his shirt so tight he probably tore a hole. Though he's not really sure what to do, Dean wraps his arms around him and lets him sob for a few seconds. 

However, he knows the room is being monitored, so they'd have to move, now. He pulls back from Seth, practically prying his fingers loose, and takes his head in his hands. “Can you walk?”

It seems like it takes a second for the question to reach Seth's brain and for him to take stock of his own injuries, but he's nodding. Then, “The cuff.” 

It's more like a shackle than a cuff and Dean wonders where someone would even purchase something like that. It's heavy steel encircling Seth's ankle and obviously digging into the flesh there, but there's no overt way of getting it off of him quickly. Even the end tethered to the bed leg is practically welded there and it hits that seth was probably not the first captive to be stuck in this room. Examining it, it looked like it needs an Allen wrench to release the hinge - something he didn't have and doesn't have time to rummage around for. There was no way he could pry it loose, not even with the two of them. Which leaves only two options: leave Seth here or break the chain. 

“I'm gonna have to break it.” He says to Seth, who makes a sound like he might just jump out of his skin at the idea. Had to hand it to him though, he did manage a nod and extended his restrained foot out to make it easier. “This is probably gonna hurt.”

Seth sets his jaw and braces himself as Dean lifts the pipe, ready to slam the blunt edge into the link in the chain closest to his ankle. “Do it.”

“Ok, I'm gonna count to three.” He offers and watches Seth squeeze his eyes shut. “One…”

He slams the pipe down and Seth let's out a broken screech, but the chain breaks free. “You said your were gonna count to three!”

“Couldn't have you pull your foot back at the last second.” Dean shrugs and helps Seth up. 

He's a bit unsteady, and favoring the ankle without the cuff around it, but he's up. It only takes one look at the man to know he's been through hell, but there's no time to dwell on it now. Too much time has passed and that pressure should be reaching critical mass any minute now. Besides, the room was obviously monitored, even if a quick glance around didn't immediately produce where the camera may be. They had to go. But first…

“Here, take this.” Dean unbuttons his dress shirt and slips it off, handing it to Seth. At least it'll give him a bit more coverage than the black boxer briefs. Dean was more than fine in the tank top he had worn under the tux. When Seth takes it, he looks at the cloth almost reverently, like he was shocked Dean would do this for him. He does slip it on, and they both make for the door. 

Dean takes a second and presses his ear to the door. It seems quiet, but he looks back at Seth as if to say ‘be ready’. A quick nod and he pushes open the door. The hallway is still empty except for one person. Roman Reigns - and he's armed.

“Are you really this stupid, Dean?” Says his former friend when Dean pushes Seth further behind him and holds up the pipe to defend himself. “You could have just left, probably could have gotten away, but you came back for _him_?”

He expected a smart comeback from Seth behind him, expected that cocky attitude to come flowing out like it had so many times, but there's nothing. No response to that other than to grab at the back of Dean's tank top. 

“Were getting off this ship, Roman.” Dean says, low and dangerous like he might just run and tackle the Big Dog to the ground. “I'd advise you to do the same.”

Roman cocks his head to the side. “Why? What did you do?”

As if there was some kind of cosmic timing, a loud explosion rips through the bottom of the ship. For a second, everything moves in slow motion. Everything not tethered down suddenly jerks upward and crashes back down with force, including all three men in the hallway. Dean hits the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, and it takes several seconds of just staring at the pattern of the rug under him before he gets his bearings. Alarms are blaring from all directions, sprinklers have begun spraying every surrounding area in a useless attempt to put out whatever fire may have started, and the sounds of panic filled the ship - which has already begun listing to the side. 

Once he gets his bearings back, he's aware of Seth pulling at his arm. “C’mon! We gotta go!”

He's on his feet as fast as he can, following him down the hall. Seth easily hops over the still recovering Roman, but Dean stops at his side. “Are you alright?”

Roman pushes him away. “Get the fuck away from me!”

Undeterred, Dean holds out his hand for his former friend. “Come with us.”

Again, Roman slaps it away. Seth is shifting from foot to foot nervously, still tugging at Dean's arm and he has to give up and follow. But the way Roman looks at him when he finally gives him a quick nod and a rushed “good luck” would probably be burned into his memory for the rest of his life; betrayal, anger, hurt, and a reluctance to follow painted the Samoans face like a canvas. 

There was nothing he could do about it now, no way to wipe that slate clean, so he picks himself up and follows Seth. They're halfway down the opposite hall when he hears Roman call after them. “This isn't over!”

He follows Seth down the maze of hallways, assuming he knew his way around this ship, they had to brace themselves on the walls to keep steady as the ship began to sink around them. “What the hell did you do, Dean!?” Seth yells back at him when they turn another corner. 

“I blew up the boiler!” He replies but stops when he recognizes the door to Hunters office. “Seth, wait! The stones!” 

“Leave’em!”

There's a brief moment looking into Seth's panicked eyes where Dean seriously considers it, just let them sink with the rest of this ship, but he can't do it. Too much blood, sweat, and tears has gone into getting this far and he couldn't just leave them. 

“Dean! The ship is fucking sinking!”

He takes a deep breath and bursts through the office door, ignoring the disgruntled groan from Seth as he followed him in. It's empty save for his bag, which has the stones in it, lying in the corner - probably having been moved thanks to the explosion. Dean makes a break for it without hesitation and shoulders it. But the most important piece is gone. “Where's the journal!?” 

Again Seth is pulling at his arm. “We don't have time!”

Dean looks at him, “I need that journal!”

“Dean, please!” 

Seth is looking at him with those big brown eyes, so full of fear and panic and everything in between, pleading with him to go. He knows there's no choice, they had to get off this yacht, but the key to everything could potentially be going down with the ship. He relinquishes and follows Seth out and up to the deck. 

There's people everywhere, running this way and that, trying to get to a life raft before everything ends up underwater. 

“There!” Seth yells at him, pointing to the back of the ship. “There's a dingy that hunter uses for private trips to land. No one should be on it.”

He doesn't even question it, but follows Seth's lead. Sure enough, tethered to the back of the ship is a small motorized raft big enough for maybe two people. But they were far enough from land that he doubted the small engine would be able to get them back before it ran out of gas, assuming it was full in the first place. But Seths already in it before he can protest. What other option did they have? 

He jumps in after him and releases the rope tether while Seth gets the motor started. They pull away just in time to see the ship almost on its side, the bow already underwater with the stern following fast. Many of the lifeboats had already been released, but people could still be heard on deck. 

That's when he spots Triple H glaring down at him from the railing at the back of the ship. He grins triumphantly at him and salutes the fuming man. However, his anger shifts to a smug grin when he holds up Regals journal. “I'll find you, Ambrose! You and that little slut you've got with you!”

Dean replies to that the only way he knows how, with his middle finger held high and clear. However, a look back at Seth and he can see the fear etched in his face, the pain at what had been done to him, it made him clamp up tight even as he steered the raft away. 

“Hey.” He says and touches Seth's hand, who immediately pulls it away in a very uncharacteristic move that leaves Dean angry at Helmsley all over again. 

But they were free. 

Where could they go?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed this chapter out of my face. It's not as long as the others, but I think it's better to keep this as a look into the changing relationship between dean and Seth. Anyway, thank everyone for all the support for this story! I sincerely appreciate every comment and kudo I get!

They did make it to shore, barely. The little motorized dinghy sputtered out about half a mile from land, but it was close enough that they could get out and pull it to shore. The beach, under any other circumstance, would be breathtaking with its white sand, lush green palms, chirping gulls, breeze coming off the ocean just right, and a view of the bluest waters and green coastal mountains that it could very well be paradise. 

Under any other circumstance but this one. 

Dean collapses into that white sand as soon as they heft themselves onto it. He's breathless from exertion and waning adrenaline, staring up at the blue sky like it might just give him the energy he needs to push forward. It doesn't, it just sort of stares back like he's supposed to have this whole shitstorm figured out. It was really tempting to just lay there and let the hot sun bake him. 

He feels more than sees Seth sit next to him, but he doesn't speak, not right away at least. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see him staring out into the open expanse of ocean, lost in thought or memory, he wasn't really sure. When he pulls himself up to sit, Dean allows a few seconds of quiet reflection because new feelings and old have seemed to intermingle in his chest in light of recent events. That familiar warmth he used to feel for Seth had been slowly creeping back in before this whole ordeal, but was tainted by the memory of what he'd done. It was going to be hard to trust him, at least for now, but they had each other again and a unity - even a flimsy, fragile, one - was better than nothing. 

“You blew up a yacht.” Seth states absently at his side, still not making eye contact, even if there was a twinge of humor in his voice and the way the one side of his mouth twitches into a weak smirk when Dean looks over at him.

He sighs, but finds himself grinning right alongside him. “They shouldn't have pissed me off.”

That twitch of a grin on Seth's face gets a little wider when he finally looks at Dean. There's something in his eyes that he can't quite place - an affection he hadn't seen before maybe, or just relief, but it definitely gets that warmth and familiarity spreading through his chest. 

“Should I expect to be handcuffed again?” Seth asks, amusement dancing in those tight words that were definitely more strained than he probably thought he had let on. 

Dean shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. “Not unless you piss me off too.” He pulls himself to his feet and dusts the sand free from his pants before holding out a hand for Seth. He doesn't take it, just stares at it until Dean pulls it away awkwardly and goes to get his bag from the raft. 

It's not like he doesn't understand why Seth won't touch him - the tugs and pulls on the ship were the only time he'd done so since, and even then it was only because they were in a dire situation - and he wishes he could have prevented what happened to him at the hands of Triple H. Maybe it was better this way. Adrenaline and fear have brought too many things to the surface that Dean had thought he'd swallowed down. But he did want to comfort him, even if he didn't know how, even with the history between them hanging over his head. Maybe treating him as normal as possible is best right now because Seth was never one for walking on eggshells.

“Here.” He tosses a pair of his jeans, a tee shirt, and an extra pair of sneakers to Seth from his bag before rifling through for a change of clothes for himself. “Can't have you traipsing around wherever we are in a pair of underwear and a tuxedo shirt.”

“I dunno,” Seth grins and looks himself over. “I think I make it work. Don't you?” 

Dean knows that little flirty, dismissive grin is just a mask he can see right through to the traumatized man below. He doesn't push it, and even manages a small smile back. He definitely doesn't mention the ankle cuff still attached to his leg. They'd have to get that removed before it rusts. 

After they're both in dry, more practical clothing, Dean shoulders his bag and they both push the dinghy back out to sea. If they were able to make it to land so easily, so would the Authority. Hopefully they could throw them off a little by letting it float somewhere further away. 

“Do you have any idea where we are?” Asks Seth as he follows Dean's lead into the jungle at the edge of the beach. 

“No clue.”

“So we're just gonna wander around until we find some civilization?” 

Dean looks over his shoulder just in time to see Seth get smacked in the face with a low hanging palm, barely managing to stifle the laugh. “You have a better idea?”

The despondent frown was enough of an answer. 

It's night before they finally stop. This jungle was too dense to keep going without being able to see. Once they hit a small clearing, Dean drops his bag and immediately sets to work trying to find some kindling. Seth offers to help and the two of them manage to get a small fire going before long. 

“You should get some sleep.” Dean says and offers to take the first watch. God knows they were lost somewhere in the jungle, probably in South America, so they not only had to worry about predators from an animal standpoint, but also the human. But aside from that, Seth looks weary, tired, like he might collapse any moment, and not necessarily from exhaustion. 

Seth only nods and curls himself next to the fire opposite him and closes his eyes. Slowly, his breathing starts to even out and he watches Seth drift off. It's only then that Dean can really sit and think and he hates it. Too much has happened too quickly and it's overwhelming. Seth, the Authority, this stupid quest for a city made of gold, and, above it all, Roman. 

Jesus, he'd betrayed Dean; the last person he'd ever expect set him up, beat him, and threw his lot in with the very organization they had been against since they met. What had driven him to this? When was the moment that he finally snapped? Looking over at Seth, he could guess. Jealousy. Not because he had a thing for Dean, because Roman was as straight as an arrow where Dean was more fluid, but the loss of attention, of involvement, like after Seth, Dean would just push Roman aside. It didn't feel like he had, even all those years ago before Seth turned on the both of them. 

He wished he could just talk to him, figure this whole thing out, hash out whatever anger had bubbled between them even if it meant a literal fight. In all honesty, it appears as if it's heading in that direction anyway. Roman's feelings were festering and would only get worse the longer he's in the company of the Authority. 

The deep sigh that left his lungs relieved that pressure for a split second before it came crashing back down. Too much, too fast, and he wishes he could be numb to it. He wasn't that fortunate. 

Leaning his head back, he busies himself with thinking about hockey stats to take his mind off of everything. It should be getting close to playoff season and he wonders absently if his Philadelphia Flyers have made it. A sound draws his attention back to the here and how, a small pained whimper coming from the man sleeping across from him. Seth is curled into a tight ball, hugging his knees like his life depended on it. What Dean could see of his face, he knew something was wrong. A sheen of sweat covered most of Seth's forehead, even if it wasn't all that hot, his brows drawn together tightly and his eyes squeezed shut like he was terrified to open them clues Dean into his distress. 

“...Dean…” it's barely a mumble, and Seth is definitely still asleep, but he's shuddering, shaking like he might fall apart. Tears are falling down his cheeks to collect in his beard and Dean feels the sudden urge to comfort him, to take it all away. He knows he can't, for both their sakes, but history and feelings make it hard to hold back and move forward at the same time. It's a strange juxtaposition of thoughts, making that warm feeling wax and wane in his chest. 

He couldn't just leave him like that though, it was obvious he was having a nightmare. Unsure what to do, he pulls himself up and gently walks over to Seth so as to not startle him. He's still mumbling some incoherent version of Dean's name and the word ‘no’ over and over when Dean crouches down. 

“Seth.” He says quietly, careful not to touch him. “Hey, wake up.”

It's surprisingly quick and entirely unexpected, but Seth reaches out lightning fast and takes a hold of Dean's arm and pulls him down against him, hugging the very confused man close. Dean’s not wrapping his arms around the still sleeping man in his nightmare state, but Seth is clutching onto him for dear life, so hard that it was actually starting to hurt.

“Shit.” He sighs and tries to wriggle out of the death grip his former lover had him in. “Seth, wake up.”

A hiccupped sob and Seth does nothing but pull Dean closer to him, burying his face into his chest at an awkward angle. “It...hurts…stop…”

And that hurt just hearing it. He couldn't imagine living it. 

“C’mon, man, open your eyes.” 

He nudges Seth harder and his eyes shoot open. It’s like his brain finally comprehends that he is awake, but can't understand why he's clutching onto Dean, and sits up and scoots back quickly, pushing Dean away. “What are you doing?”

Finally able to shake some feeling back into his arm, Dean also sits up. “You were having a nightmare.”

“No I wasn't.” Seth declares, but it’s pretty obvious he doesn't believe his own assertion. “Why were you hugging me?”

“I wasn't.” Dean says, straightforward. “I tried to wake you up and you grabbed me.”

Seth opens and closes his mouth a few times like he wants to protest, wants to tell Dean to fuck off, but he doesn't. Rather, he clears his throat like he's trying to reset his brain and makes it a point to not make eye contact. 

Dean knows this is as tough on Seth, knows that despite everything, he had been physically and mentally assaulted and no matter how he tries to mask it, he’s hurting from the ordeal. “Look, if you need to-” 

Seth shoots him a glare and cuts him off. “I don't.” 

He could push the issue, but it was probably better to leave Seth at his word. At least for now. 

There's a tense silence that falls between the two of them for a long time, long enough for Dean to move away and take up his previous seat across the fire from Seth. Its Seth who breaks the tension. It’s uncharacteristically soft, the edge in his voice replaced with what appeared to be genuine concern. “Are you...did they…”

“I think we should save the heart-to-hearts for when we're not lost in the jungle.” Dean says, smiling at Seth and waiting until he sees his lip quirk up into a matching, lopsided grin. “Besides,” he continues. “It’s your watch.”


	12. Chapter 12

Though it takes some doing, they do manage to come across civilization not to far into the following afternoon, much to Seth's surprise. Its nothing big and fancy, and definitely more on the shady side that either of them would like, but it was people and houses and cars. 

“I was hoping we’d run into some resort.” Seth had grumbled when they finally exited the jungle. “Not dirt streets and tin roofed houses.”

Though he did smile at the complaint, Dean was well aware that in this instance beggars could not be choosers. “Quit bitchin’, Seth. At least we've found people.”

In all honesty, they were extremely lucky to even come across this little village because it was not unheard of for people to go missing in jungles like this one and Dean Ambrose was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It wasn't like they had stumbled into some secluded community that had never heard of modern technology. There was obviously electricity, cars, and people milling around in modern clothing, so they could probably find a place to sleep with an actual bed and figure out their next move from there. Seth would just have to deal. 

He acts like this is the first place like this that he and Dean had ever come across. It was obvious that he was far to used to the lavish lifestyle the Authority had given him, but Seth had started out traveling the world with Dean, who liked the back alley deals and shiesty parts of town because that's where he fit in, where the real people were, the real fun, the real action. Seth had felt the same way once, he'd just forgotten somewhere along the line. 

He was far from surprised when they made their way down one of the streets at the strange looks they were getting from people. They were two random guys walking out of the jungle, obviously outsiders, and one of them stood out like a sore thumb. At least Seth could blend in if he didn't look so disgusted at everything they came across. 

“Here.” Dean says and stops in front of an unassuming building that looked like it hadn't seen a repairman in years. The walls were crumbling thanks to the humidity, anything metal was rusted and corroded, and there was nothing but a sign on the door of the Budweiser logo.

Unsurprisingly, Seth scoffed at him. “Are you kidding?” 

“It's a bar, Seth.” 

Seth gives him this look like he might just have ten heads. “How do you know?”

Dean answers that by pointing to the Budweiser sign. 

“Seriously?” he still looked appalled at the idea. “They will probably murder us!” 

Dean laughs at him because he looks so incredibly snobbish right now. “Hey, I know you're used to lavish parties and expensive drinks, but the Seth I knew would have no problem going into a place like this. Besides, the best place to ask around for a place to stay is a bar.”

That shut him up, even if he was still glaring at Dean. But, he did square his shoulders, muster whatever courage he had, and push past Dean - still careful not to touch him - through the door. A smirk and Dean follows right after. 

It looked pretty much exactly what he expected it to. Dark and dingy, with a strange smell that could be puke, could be the body odor of the hefty crowd, but could also be whatever they had cooking in the small kitchen he could see behind the raggedy looking bar. It's surprisingly crowded, and Seth looks like he just may burst into tears at the thought of trying to wade through the mass of people. 

“Follow me.” Dean offers with a sympathetic smile. “I'll clear the way.”

And he does, even going so far as to shove someone clear of Seth as he tries to make it to the bar. 

“Hey! Watch it, asshole!” That man snaps and Dean stops in his tracks. Definitely American. New York if the accent was any indication. “Can't ya see I'm drinkin’ ‘ere!?”

“You're American?”

The man looks taken aback and moves into the light just enough for them to get a good look at him. He's young, maybe a few years younger than them, but he's got a sense of style that definitely is unique - especially his harshly bleached hair sticking up in all directions, except the shaved sides - white leather jacket adorned with a naked girl on the lapel and other suggestive patches, overalls just as decorated, and gold chains hanging from his neck completed the look. He recovers remarkably quickly. “Yeah. So? What of it, pal?”

It's Seth who jumps into the conversation before Dean can answer. “We’re trying to find -”

The man cuts him off by holding up his hand. “Buh, buh, buh! I ‘n't ask you, did I, sweetheart?” 

Dean can't help the smirk when Seth pouts, which the man apparently didn't like either. “And what are you grinin’ at, huh? Youse two best get to steppin’.”

“Look man, we just don't know where we are.” Dean tries even though the man tries to dismiss him with a snort. “We aren't trying to cause any problems.”

“How do yah not know where yah are?” 

Dean looks at Seth, who shrugs. “That's a long story.” 

This guy, so erratic in his movements that he reminded Dean of the energizer bunny, got right up in his face. “Long story or not, _pal_ , you messed with the wrong Certified G. Yah know what I'm sayin’?” 

Oh, that was the wrong move, stepping up to someone like Dean in a place like this because now he was going to have to kick his ass on principle alone. He tried to be nice, but this little asshole just wants to start a fight? Fine, that's what he'd get. Dean stood his ground and tightens his hands into fists, ready to throw a punch when the time came. The low growl in his throat must have caught Seth's attention because he was suddenly right there, close enough to catch Dean's eye, but not touching him. 

“Dean, let it go.” He warns, voice stern but soft. Seth has known him for a long time, so he'd be well aware of the danger of things getting out of hand, especially with Dean. He couldn't remember how many times his former lover saved him from bashing someone's face in with a pool cue, but it was definitely more than once. 

“Yeah, Deano, let it go!” Says the annoying little man with a smirk on his face. 

The growl that left his chest was loud and dangerous. However, when he reared back his fist, ready and willing to throw a punch, he was beaten to it. The man is on the floor clutching his jaw before Dean can even process what had happened. When he looks at Seth, gingerly shaking out his right hand, he can't help the feeling of absolute bewilderment. “Seth, did you just -”

“No one else can call you Deano.” he says back like it's a side note and that warmth in his chest damn near engulfs him. He wants to kiss Seth, or at least hug him, because _thats_ what set him off? Not the whole interaction before, but the fact that this weasel of a man called Dean ‘Deano’ was the final push?

Before he can say anything further about it, the man is on his feet and advancing on Seth. But he isn't the only one. Most of the men in the immediate vicinity have turned around and had started glaring at them as if it was a real possibility that they were about to be murdered. One in particular seems to take great offense to the fact that Seth had just laid this man out and was snarling his way towards them. Dean immediately steps between Seth and the crowd, fists clenched at his side, ready for this inevitable fight. He can feel Seth at his shoulder and hear the low snarl he was letting out. He was also ready for whatever was about to happen. This would be just like old times. 

“Wait!” The little weasel yelled over everyone. “We can't have any more bar fights!” 

“These two disrespected you ‘Zo.” 

The man they were looking at had to be close to seven feet tall. Both Seth and Dean were not short by any standards, but he towered over them a good head and shoulders. Plus, he was built like a tank. One punch from him and it was pretty likely they would be knocked unconscious. 

“Cass, you know if da police get called again, they are gonna kick us out.” Zo says, hushed like he doesn't want anyone else to hear. Then he looks Dean directly in the eye. “We're gonna settle this da old fashioned way.”

Dean smirks. “Yeah? Out in the alley, like men?”

“No, drinking contest.” This Zo answers, his own smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Then he claps the giant he called Cass on the chest. “Big Cass here is undefeated. And you can't teach that!”

“Fine.” Dean says, easy as anything. “But if I win, you help us.”

“We win, and youse two vamoose out of this town. Deal?” Zo replies and holds out his hand. 

Dean takes it and shakes it once. “Deal.” 

The crowd around them parts and the bartender brings two unmarked bottles of a clear liquid and two shot glasses. He sits them down and Big Cass takes his seat, indicating for Dean to sit as well. It's explained that the rules were simple; first one to pass out or puke, loses. This could bite them in the ass, but Dean is no slouch when it comes to his liquor, however it would definitely take much more to get to Cass. 

He makes a move to pull out the chair when Seth steps in front of him. “Let me do it.”

“What?”

“I threw the punch.” He whispers, serious. “Let me finish it.”

“Don't be stupid, Seth. You could never hold your liquor.”

“I can do it, Dean.”

Maybe it was the look in Seths eyes, that pleading determination he hadn't seen in years, but Dean relinquishes and steps aside for Seth to sit without much more of a fuss. “I hope you know what you're doing.”

By now, the crowd had begun taking wages on the contest, many choosing Cass as the victor. Which, by the looks of it, was a very likely scenario. He wonders if they would at least be nice enough to give them directions to the next plot of civilization. 

Zo pours the liquid for Cass and looks at Dean expectantly, so he follows suit and pours Seth's glass. Cass gives Seth a little salute with the shot glass and downs the drink like it was nothing. Seth, a tad more hesitant, takes it down in one gulp too but coughs as the liquid burns his throat. He recovers quickly as Dean pours his next round, even as the crowd laughs at him. 

By the third shot, the coughing had subsided. By the fifth, Seth was starting to sway. By the eighth, it was pretty obvious that Seth was losing it. However, Cass wasn't looking to stable either, and Dean whispered words of encouragement into Seth's ear. All he had to do was stay conscious. 

“You got this, Sethie.” 

He downs another shot, grimaces, and looks at Dean with the weirdest, drunken, lopsided smile. It would be adorable in any other situation. “You *hic* called me Sethie.”

“I did.” Says Dean and pours another drink. He'd lost count at how many this was, but the bottle was definitely about half empty. “And you just gotta stay awake, man. We can't go running through the jungle with your drunk ass.”

“I can sthay...awake.” Seth slurs before he and Cass take another drink. “I can hold my liquor. I don't care what Dean says.”

“I am Dean.” 

Seth squints at him and another inebriated smile blooms on his face. “Hi Dean! When did you get here?”

A heavy, anxious, sigh and Dean is pouring another. “We're so screwed.”

The contest feels like it goes on forever and, with every additional shot Seth takes, Dean is more and more worried that they were about to lose. He doesn't remember the last time either of them had eaten, which surely heightened the effects of the alcohol, and both were exhausted, beaten, and on the run. Not the best mindset for something like this. Though, he had to hand it to him, Seth was putting up a valiant effort, matching Cass shot for shot until they were three quarters of the way through their respective bottles. 

And Cass is definitely feeling it. Seth might be swaying and slurring, but Cass was damn near almost tipping out of his chair. Maybe, just maybe, Seth could actually win. 

“I...I can't drink any...any more, Dean.” And Seth just looks at the full glass on the table. 

A quick glance at Zo trying to rally Cass, who was barely able to keep his eyes open, and Dean knew this shouldn't take much. “C’mon, Sethie. Just a little more.” 

Again, at the mention of Dean calling him by the pet name they had used so many times when they were together, Seth straightened up, took a deep breath, raised the shot glass to his lips, and downed the liquor before slamming it down on the table. He sways in the chair from side to side and all eyes watch as he almost falls face first into Dean. Thankfully, he catches himself at the last moment and shakes out his head as best he can to the chorus of groans of the patrons of the bar. Apparently, most had bet against him. 

It was cass’s turn and he very slowly takes the glass and looks at the liquid in it. It's apparent he doesn't want to do it, but Zo is pushing him, prodding. He gives one small look to them and downs the shot. The look on Seth's face as he slumps in his seat is defeated and shocked that he was going to have to drink another. But then, just as Zo was pouring the next shot for his partner, Cass leans back in the chair and keeps going until he hits the floor. 

Dean jumps up in triumph! “YES!”

Seth just sort of looks stunned. “Did-did I win?”

“You cheated!” Zo cried.

Dean got up in Zo’s face immediately, just missing as Seth reached out for him. “How the fuck did we cheat?” He points his finger in the man's chest. “We won, hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Says Zo with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I'll give it to your man, not many can outdrink Big Cass. Look, we gots a place wit an extra bedroom, as long as yah don't mind sharin’ a bed. We can talk ‘bout more in da mornin’, yeah?” Then he holds out his hand to Dean with a big smile on his face. “Names Enzo. Enzo Amore.”

Dean shakes it once. “Dean. That's Seth.” When he turns back to Seth, he's on the floor. “Ah crap.”

\---

The room Enzo lets them use is small, just enough for a full sized bed and an end table with one lamp on it. It's bare, so they obviously don't entertain guests much, but it was better than sleeping in the jungle again. However, the biggest problem Dean was facing at the moment, was Seth. 

“C’mon...jus...just let me…”

Dean pulls Seth's hands off his belt for the tenth time in as many minutes. Apparently, drunk Seth forgot about that aversion to touch and has been pawing at any article of Dean's clothes he could get his hands on. For as long as he's known him, drunk Seth was horny Seth. But this situation was different. They've been through too much recently and in the past, and all Dean can do is try to pull seth off of him. 

“Seth, you're drunk.”

Seth pulls a face, then, undeterred, gets his hands under Dean's t-shirt and his mouth on his neck. “So? Why won't you let me thank you?”

Again, Dean pushes him back. “Thank me for what?”

Seth grabs Deans face and smashes their lips together in a bruising kiss that has the bitter taste of the alcohol and desperation. It feels good to have Seth pressed against him again, and it takes a lot for him to get his hands between them and push Seth back as gently as he can. He loses his balance and lands on his back on the bed. Seth doesn't give Dean a chance to back away and grabs him by the shirt to pull him down on top of him and uses his momentum to flip him onto his back to straddle him. “You're so sexy. Do you know that?” He slurs and gets his hands on his belt buckle again. 

“Stop.”

It's like Seth doesn't hear him and Dean has to pull his hands off. 

“Why are you being like this?” Seth slurs with a roll of his eyes, face mere inches from Deans and their chests flush together. “Just let me make you feel good. It's the least I...I can do…please...”

“You don't have to.” 

“I want to.”

“No, you think you have to. There's a difference.”

Seth stilled on top of him, eyes locked with Deans and it's like the words finally hit and he remembered everything through his hazy, alcohol addled head. “Do you know what he did to me?” He asks suddenly, quietly, voice shaky and heavy like he might burst into tears at any second.

What could Dean say? He did know. So he nods once. 

“I gave up everything to that organization. I gave _you_ up. If you hadn't found me…you could have left me. You probably should have…”

“Seth, I-”

He falls forward against Dean and hugs him close. “They hurt you too. I know they did. I know Roman did.”

Hesitantly, Dean wraps an arm around him and it's like he melts into it with a contented little sigh. “We’ll just have to beat them at their own game won't we?”

No answer comes. 

“Seth?”

The soft snore hits his ear and he realizes that all that alcohol has finally caught up to Seth and he passed out right on top of him. He can't help but chuckle as he gently pushes him off and lays him back on the bed. He unites Seth's shoes and pulls them off, then he tosses a thin sheet over him. 

“How do I always end up in these situations?” He asks himself and takes an extra blanket and pillow to set up on the floor. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. They'd start fresh in the morning, get themselves a plan, and find that lost city first. Dean was determined to beat them to it, determined to beat them at their own game. No one messes with him like this, he wasn't going to let them win. 

Seths arm falls over the edge over them bed as if reaching for him and Dean smiles. He smiles because he wasn't alone. Despite their past, he had Seth and, when they were on the same page, they were unstoppable. 

He takes Seth's hand and gives it a small squeeze. 

They were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't recommend drinking like Seth and Cass do in this chapter. I'm fairly sure both of them would have pretty significant alcohol poisoning. But I was wTching Raiders and I wanted a drinking game...so that's what you get. :)


	13. Chapter 13

He wakes up with an ache in his shoulder so bad that it travels down his arm and into his fingers, but that's what sleeping on the hard floor will do to the body. Pulling himself up with a groan as every joint protests the movement, Dean realizes it's still pretty early, the sun barely peeking through the blinds. On the bed, Seth was still passed out on his stomach and Dean couldn't help but smile. His hair was a mess, most of it covering his face, but he could still see that line of drool catching in his beard before it pooled on the pillow. If Seth, ever the put together perfectionist, knew he looked like this he would deny it until he was blue in the face. Dean wishes he had a camera. 

At any rate, he needs to piss. Maybe Enzo was awake and he can question him about where they were and begin figuring out their next move because if they found this town, so would the Authority and he'd rather not be here when they did.

The bathroom is right down the hall and he made quick work of emptying his bladder and splashing some water on his face to clear his head a bit. The coolness of the water felt good on his skin, giving him enough of a jolt to knock some of the fog away. What he could really use right now is a long, hot shower, but he'd have to settle for this. He ran his wet fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck in addition to his face and, now that he was feeling a bit more human, left the bathroom with every intention of exploring this little whack a bit. 

However, noises coming from what he assumed was the kitchen drew his attention. He could hear Enzo cursing at something - he knew he wouldn't be the type to sleep much - and made his way toward him. 

The kitchen is small, which wasn't surprising, and well stocked with cans and goods all over every available surface. Enzo had his back to dean, fiddling with something on the counter he was calling some very colorful names. The guy was still as antsy as he had been last night, bouncing from foot to foot with jerky movements. 

“You need help?” Dean asks and Enzo damn near jumps out of his skin, turning around so fast he must have gotten whiplash. 

“Jesus!” He breathes out a loud breath and clutches his heart like Dean had stopped it. “You're a quiet motherfucker, aren't you?”

Dean laughs and shakes his head as Enzo goes back to whatever he was doing. “How's your friend, Cass?” 

“Still sleepin’ off that game.” Enzo answers. “Hows ‘bout yours?”

“Same.”

“I gotta hand it to ‘im, not many can beat Cass like dat.” Enzo says then makes a triumphant noise when he finally does whatever he had been struggling with. He turns to face Dean with a can of freshly opened Folgers coffee. “You want some coffee?” 

“Folgers?” 

“Look, I ain't about dis fancy South American coffee.” Says Enzo with a little snort of a laugh, which makes Dean smile. “Give me shitty American roast any day. So, you in?”

“Definitely.” He would kill for a good cup of coffee right about not, but he'd settle for Folgers. He watches Enzo prep the coffee pot and waits until he sits at the cluttered table before speaking again. “So, were in South America?”

Enzo motions for Dean to sit down, which he does, and eyes him like he's not sure Dean isn't crazy. “How do yah not know where youse are? Youse guys crash land ‘ere or somethin’?”

“Something like that.” Dean answers. 

“‘Ey, were youse two part of day cruise ship dat sank a few days ago?” 

Dean's smile drops a little. “So you all heard about that, huh?”

“Kinda hard not to, man. Plus, all dese guys keeps showin’ up askin’ about fugitives. Two of ‘em. That you two?”

Now Dean's smile was gone completely, which Enzo noticed and threw up his hands. “No, no, no, man! Don't take dat the wrong way! I ain't a snitch. And from what I'm understandin’, dese guys are being assholes to da people they talkin’ to, yah know what I'm sayin’? I got you.”

“Thank you.” Dean says, relieved. “It's a bad situation, for both me and Seth. We need to stay under their radar if we can.”

“No prob, dude.” 

After a moment of silence to let Enzo pour the coffee, Dean contemplates what they need to do. First things first, they'd have to get that cuff off Seths ankle. Not only was it obviously uncomfortable, but also probably hindered his movement. He'd need Seth at 100% if they were going to continue this crusade for El Dorado. 

“This might sound like a weird question…” Dean begins, then takes a sip from the cup Enzo had placed in front of him. “But, do you know a blacksmith who might be able to get a shackle off?”

“You got a cuff?” 

“No, Seth does.” He answers. “It looks like it can be open with an Allen wrench, but I'm not sure if it's rusted closed by this point.”

Enzo smirks and sits back in his chair. “You're in luck, my friend. Cass is an expert at removing cuffs.” 

Though confused, Dean decides to drop it and take it at face value with a quick thanks. The conversation shifts and he discovers that they actually aren't that far from where they had left port in Rio. That was a good thing, and would at least give him some sort of bearing when they figured out where the next city was. 

Enzo explained that he and Cass left New York to try and find a beach they had seen in some infomercial on late night tv. As it turned out, it was a scheme and they ended up here. They liked the people so much, they decided to stay. They'd been here for about two years and had no plans on leaving. 

“So, you and Seth...a thing?” Enzo asks.

“A thing?”

“Yeah. Look, I ain’t judgin’! Was kinda hard ta miss how he hung all over you last night.”

Dean sighed. “We used to be. Then...we weren't.”

“That's not what it looked like last night.”

“He's a handsy drunk, always was.”

“I'll tell yah what I've learned over da years.” Enzo says. “Drunks, are da most honest people in da world.”

“Well, I doubt he'll be like that today.” Dean sighs again. “I guess I should go see how he's doing. Thanks for the coffee.”

Enzo gives him a little nod as Dean stands up to leave. He'd have to say that he was surprised by how genuine someone who almost started a bar fight with him not 24 hours ago. Guess that old adage of books and covers holds true. 

When he returns to the room, he's surprised to find Seth awake. He doesn't look right though, and it's got nothing to do with the obvious hangover he's nursing. His shoulders are tense, knees are drawn up to his chest where he's sitting against the headboard of the bed, arms hugging them tightly, and when he looks up at Dean, there's a worried pain in his eyes. 

Dean approaches the bed slowly and sits down on the edge, careful to keeps his distance. “Hey.”

Seth just sort of looks at him with a tenseness in his eyes like he's waiting for something bad to happen. When he answers with a simple “Hey” in return, it's like he can't get his voice to work right. It's heavy, which could be from the booze, but more than likely it's for a whole different reason. 

“How you feelin’?” 

Seth shrugs and winces. “Head feels like it's in a vice, and I may puke…”

There's obviously something he wants to add, but stops himself before saying it. “But?” Dean pushes, having a feeling about where this is going. 

“Did...did we...did I…?”

“No.” says Dean and a wave of relief washes over Seth's face. “Not for your lack of trying.” 

That relief switched to embarrassment, then to something Dean couldn't quite place. “You slept on the floor?”

Dean nods. 

“Thank you.”

“Don't worry about it.” Dean says, actually meaning it for once. 

“No, I mean thank you...for everything.” Seth adds, closing in on himself more. “Most of the people who go to that room never leave. I've seen it happen. They disappear behind the door and are never seen again. I...I just didn't realize what happened to them until they locked me in.”

“Seth, you don't have to-”

“But I need to!” Seth shouts and Dean swallows whatever he was going to say. “I've been a prostitute since I was 16, I've had rough men before. Hunter...isn't gentle, even by those standards. He never was, but when he's angry and doesn't care...it fucking hurt! Every goddamn second of it! He didn't care if I wanted it or not, he just wanted to hurt _you_ and get his rocks off. I knew he was recording - he's a sick fuck like that - and I knew he was going to show you the video. I-I was hoping you'd see my message and come for me, but Hunter...he said you were already helping them, that you'd joined the Authority and would want nothing to do with me, that I was nothing now but a warm hole for him to fuck.”

“And you believed him?” 

“I would have believed anything to make the pain stop. I know how you feel about me, Dean. You haven't exactly made it a secret recently.” He answers, wet eyes watching Dean's face and he feels a pang of guilt hit his chest so hard he almost doubles over. 

“Yeah, well, things change.” He says and looks away, down to a spot on the floor just so he didn't have to look seth in the eyes. “I didn't expect any of this to happen, Seth. Had you not shown up at the hotel in that fucking black suit...I don't know...it's tough trying to come to grips with you being back in my life. No matter what my feelings for you might have been before, I couldn't just leave you there.”

“I was hopeful Hunter was full of shit. Good to know I was right.”

“They certainly tried to get me to their side. Promises of fortune and glory only go so far with me. Especially when I know Hunter is full of shit. ” Dean continues. “But none of what they did to me matters…”

“But it does.” Says Seth. “Roman betrayed you, Dean. I saw the look in your eye, that hurt worse than anything else they could have done to you, which I'm sure they did if the bruises on your jaw are any indication.”

“I can take being hit, Seth.”

“I know.” Seth adds. “But you can't take being betrayed. Especially not from someone you care about. For what it's worth, which might be absolutely nothing at this point, I'm sorry I hurt you like I did. I-I was selfish. I had a good thing with you, and I gave it up for a stupid reason. If I could go back-”

“I never stopped loving you.” It slips out quickly before Dean can stop it, cutting Seth off. “I just thought you should know that. Even after everything, I thought that maybe you'd come to your senses, maybe you'd realize that I needed you. Then one week passed, then another, and another, and I figured you'd made your mind up. I was nothing to you but a stepping stone to bigger and better things. And I hated you for it. God, Seth, I hated you so much! But I never stopped loving you.”

There's a long minute where neither of them speak, they're just looking at each other like neither knows what to say or do next. Dean can feel the prick of tears in his eyes, lets them flow down his cheek, but doesn't break down. Neither does Seth, quietly taking in everything about Dean he can, studying him like only Seth could. Then Seth slowly reaches out a hand toward where Deans was resting next to him on the bed. He hovers above it for a few seconds, as if testing himself, before he covers his hand over Deans. 

It's a big step, he knows that, and doesn't move his hand. He just lets the weight of Seth's palm exist where he's placed it. Then Seth starts tapping on the back of his hand and that's when Dean almost loses it. 

_I love you, too._

Dean wants to kiss him, and even makes a move to lean forward, but stops himself because he's not sure if Seth would accept him like that just yet. Seth, for what it's worth, does squeeze Dean's hand a little tighter. They settle into a comfortable silence, just being together with clear air for the first time in a long time. 

“So what do we do now?” Seth asks, thumb still stroking the back of Dean's hand.

What they did now is fight back, get to El Dorado before the Authority, snatch the find right out from under their stupid organization. They had messed with the wrong person. But on a smaller scale, they needed to take things one step at a time. 

“We have to get this cuff off you.” He indicates toward the metal edge of the shackle peeking out from the bottom of Seth's jeans. His ankle was already bruised around the edges where the metal rubbed his skin. “Enzo said Cass can probably cut it off.”

Seth tenses and it's completely understandable, “Won't that hurt?”

“I could lie to you and say ‘no’, but...I'll be right there with you, if it makes you feel better.”

Seth smiles at him. “It does.”

A few hours later, They find themselves in the small garage that stuck out on the side of Enzo and Cass’s home. Well, to call it a garage would probably be giving it too much credit. It had a tin roof held up by nothing but four 2x4s with tools and workstations barely covered to protect from the elements. This didn't exactly give either Dean or Seth a good feeling about this, especially since Cass decided to join them looking more hungover than Seth - the sunglasses and frown were the giveaway. 

Enzo asks Seth to remove his pants and Seths eyes immediately shot to Dean. “Why do I have to take my pants off?”

“So they don't get stuck in da saw.” Enzo answers and Seth makes a clipped sort of yelp in his throat in response to that. “You'll be fine, man.”

Again Seth looks at Dean. “Seriously!?”

“Would you rather leave it on, Seth?” Asks Dean, trying to be as reassuring as possible even if he himself was not exactly thrilled at the idea of a hungover, 7 foot tall man with a saw.

Enzo pats an empty work station for Seth to climb up on, which he does...hesitantly. 

“Now, me and Dean are gonna hold your leg while-” Enzo says and Seth immediately pulls his leg away. “What?”

Seth is so conflicted right now that he looks like he might burst. “Dean…” 

“We could tie your leg still?” He offers as a solution, which obviously isn't the solution Seth was looking for. “You can't move, Seth.”

Seth was definitely conflicted about this whole thing, but eventually puts his leg back up on the table and allows Dean and Enzo to hold him still. “If he takes my foot off, I'm going to strangle everyone.” 

“Noted.” Says Cass and starts the saw. As soon as the sound hits his ears, Seth grabs a hold of Dean's arm and squeezes so hard he knows there's going to be bruises. He takes it slow, but Cass is actually very good at this. He attacks the cuff from the hinge, gently pressing the saw to the metal and backing off over and over. Seth, for his part, doesn't do much but scrunch up his face in pain and grip Dean's arm for dear life. When he's satisfied he's cut as far as is safe to go, Cass takes a hammer and gives the joint one swift hit and it falls free. “Done. I'm going back to bed.”

And Cass unplugs the saw and walks back toward the house. Enzo is bouncing up and down, happily exclaiming that he knew Cass would do it, and that Seth didn't have a scratch on him. 

“That sucked!” Seth spat angrily at Dean, who couldn't help but smile. 

That was one baby step down. Now they needed to make that giant leap to El Dorado.


	14. Chapter 14

Seth rubs his sore ankle while Dean spreads out the map on the bed between them, and places the two stones they had side by side there as well. He and Seth had made one hell of a team once upon a time, there was nothing they couldn't do together. He knew they could figure this out without the journal, granted it would be a hell of a lot easier with it.

“This is all we have?” Seth sounds cautious, skeptical, and leans down to get a better look at the map and stones. 

Dean sighs, not exactly happy that they were working at such a disadvantage. The only upside was that the journal was in code, and not an easy one to crack without knowing Regals system. “Unfortunately, yeah. If we wanna beat them at their own game, then we'll have to do it with these.”

Seth nods his head and looks back up at Dean. “And all they have is that book? Right?”

“Right.” He answers. “But that book is coded. William Regal -”

Seth arches a questioning eyebrow at him, cutting him off mid sentence. “William Regal?”

He says it like he recognizes the name. As far as he knew, Dean had never mentioned William Regal to Seth. Of all the things they talked about, of all the secrets they shared between them, that was the one he kept to himself. William Regal was his mentor, but also a prominent member of the Authority when he disappeared the night before Dean very literally ran into Seth. He'd told Dean then that he needed to protect the book, it was invaluable. And he did, kept it close to the vest for as long as he could, kept it from Seth and Roman. Once Seth left, Roman found it amongst Dean's things when he had drunk himself into a stupor and questioned him about it. It was then, and only then, that Dean came clean. At the time, his drunk self spilled the beans that sober Dean had to deal with. In retrospect, that was probably the beginning of the end of his friendship with Roman. 

However, despite all that, there is recognition in Seths eyes at the mention of the name and now Dean is _very_ curious about why. “You know him?”

“Well, no.” Seth replies, rubbing the back of his neck like he's embarrassed he brought it up. “Not personally. But I know of him. He's the one I replaced when I…” he takes a moment to feel guilty for himself before continuing. “They've been looking for him for years. From what I understand, they were very close right before I left.”

Now Dean was extremely interested. If Seth had an inkling of where Regal might be, they might not even need the journal, they could go right to the source. “Do you know anything about where they were looking?” 

Seths mouth turns up into a sad smile. “Not gonna lie, it wasn't exactly my concern at the time. I was busy seducing potential clients and going off on whatever treasure hunt Helmsley wanted to send me on.”

And it's like the hope had been deflated right from Dean's body and he slumps down. Of course Seth wouldn't have cared about his predecessor, he was the big shot he'd always longed to be and was living the life he always wanted. He really shouldn't be surprised that Seth didn't pay attention to what was going on around him while he was playing playboy. 

“But,” Seth continues and that tingle of hope is back. “I do know that they were concentrating their efforts on the Caribbean. Does that help?”

A smile spreads across Dean's face, wide and elated. “Seth, you beautiful son of a bitch!”

He looks confused and unsure whether he should be insulted or not. Dean has known William Regal for years and he had always talked about retiring to Aruba...a Caribbean island. He'd bet his last dollar that's where he went. He wanted to grab Seth and hug him, wanted to kiss him, but settles for laughing like a maniac, which only deepens the confusion on Seth's face.

“Are you having some sort of breakdown?” He asks Dean, frowning. 

“You know, I thought for the longest time something bad happened to Regal.” Says Dean. “Turns out the asshole was probably drinking pina coladas on a beach somewhere, leaving me to deal with this problems.”

“And you're happy about that?”

“Oh no, absolutely not.” Dean replies with a short laugh. “I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind when I find that cowardly dick.”

Again Seth was frowning, which admittedly Dean found adorable and he again wanted to kiss him. He'd forgotten how much he loved that face, the one that meant he wasn't quite sure Dean hadn't completely lost his mind. 

“How do you feel about Aruba?” Dean asks him. 

Seths frown lifts into a small, though wary, smile. 

They decide to leave the next morning, figuring the sooner they get to Regal the better. Also, their hosts offered to barbecue to say goodbye. Dean had tried to refuse, saying that they really had done more than enough for he and Seth. Enzo looked Dean right in the eye and clapped him on the shoulder, “Youse two are the first guests we've had in years! Good enough reason to party if yah ask me! We’re invitin’ the whole neighborhood!”

“You really don’t-”

“Shuddup, Dean!” Cass interjected. “Just let ‘em do it.”

So they did. Good guys. Dean would miss them, strangely. Maybe when everything was said and done, he’d come back and repay them for their kindness. City of gold, he could surely spare a little. 

When Enzo said he was inviting the whole neighborhood, he wasn't kidding; not even a little. That night, a bonfire had been lit to cook an entire pig, drinks were flowing like they had bought the entire supply of booze in the little town, and a band had started playing upbeat tunes to the laughing crowd who had no idea what they were celebrating, only that they were having a good time. Even Seth had gotten into the action, laughing and talking with everyone. 

Dean watches him off to the side, smiling as he talked with a woman about god knows what. But it didn't matter what they were talking about, because he hasn't seen Seth look that animated in years. Gone was the uptight Authority playboy and back was the Seth he’d fallen in love with, the funny, smart, witty, man who could make friends with anyone, the one who loved to laugh and joke and be spontaneous. That's the Seth Dean misses, and here he is beaming a smile at him from across the room like some scene in a John Hughes movie. 

“No one sits alone at one of my parties, Dean.” Enzo says, bringing him out of his thoughts of Seth, and hands Dean a beer before he plants himself next to him. “Why ‘re yah ov’r ‘re by yah-self?”

“No reason, just thinking.” When he looks at Enzo, he's getting this lopsided sort of grin that he can't place. “What?”

“Thinkin’ ‘bout Seth?” He says it like they were in grade school and Dean just admitted he had a crush, which makes him roll his eyes. Enzo just laugh and claps him on the shoulder. “I knew youse two were a thing! Knew it from the second I saw yahs!”

“You mean when you tried to pick a fight with me?” Says Dean with a smirk. “Last night?” 

“Hey! I was protectin’ my turf, yah know what I'm sayin’?” Enzo explains and Dean's grin widens. “Besides, youse two are good dudes. I can tell.”

He takes a sip of the beer and lets it settle in his throat before he says anything again. “Enzo, I really do appreciate everything you've done.”

“No! No sappy thank you's while I'm drinkin’!” Enzo laughs and stands before holding out his hand to Dean. Dean takes it, expecting a simple handshake, but is pulled to his feet and is surprised by an unexpected hug. He glances over at Seth, who has doubled over laughing at what he was sure was an uncomfortably awkward face he was making. Enzo only lets go when Cass yells his name from across the yard to go play some drinking game Dean had never heard of. He gives him one last clap on the shoulder and leaves, yelling back at Cass “Youse don't know what you started! Prepare to be schooled!” 

He sits back down just as Seth makes his way over and takes a seat next to him. “What was that about?” 

“I think Enzo is a hugger when he's drunk.” Dean laughs and the two of them settle into a comfortable silence, listening to the music, the people talking, the sounds of the party wafting over them in a happy sort of fog that has them both smiling. When he looks back at Seth, there's a sort of sparkle in his dark eyes, one that spoke to the enjoyment he was feeling after so much shit had happened to him. 

“I really wanna kiss you right now.” He blurts it out before he can stop himself and Seth looks at him with an unreadable face and all he wants to do is take it back. He looks away. “I'm sorry.”

“You should.” Seths smiling when Dean's eyes snap back up. 

“Huh?”

Seths still smiling. “I said, you should...kiss me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you?”

A small smile reaches his lips and he leans forward, takes it slow, letting his face get closer and closer, inch by inch. When he's close enough to feel Seths breath on his skin, he pauses to let the butterflies that have been slowly building in his stomach flutter and his heart beat so loudly in his ears he can barely hear the party anymore. He feels like a teenager having his first kiss when he's kissed Seth thousands of times. But here he was, nervous as all hell that he was going to screw it up. 

“Dean?” Seth says almost directly into his mouth. “What are you waiting for?”

He answers that by closing the distance between them, just lets their lips press gently against each other. He expects Seth to tense, to pull away, to regret letting Dean do this, but he doesn't, he does the opposite by kissing back, softly moaning against his mouth. It's the first real kiss they've had in years, one that's not full of all the pent of anger and frustration that had been steadily building before that ship. This was like it used to be, a give and take, soft breaths and warm lips, everything he misses about Seth, and he gets the courage to deepen the kiss, presses forward a little harder. 

“I told yah they were a thing, Cass!” He hears Enzo yell over the party and breaks the kiss to glare at him. “Pay up!”

Cass begrudgingly digs into his pocket and hands Enzo a wad of cash and Dean wonders just how much they bet on them. A point and a wink from Enzo, and they go back to whatever game they were playing. Dean looks back at Seth and he can swear he sees a deep red flush on his cheeks, could be from embarrassment, could be from the kiss. It didn't really matter, because he was smiling back at him and Dean realizes how much he likes seeing him smile. In a strange twist, Seth takes his hand and interlaces their fingers, gives it a small squeeze and that warm feeling spreads from his chest until his whole body is buzzing with it. 

If you'd have asked Dean a few weeks ago if he'd be sitting with Seth Rollins at a party in South America with people they had just met, kissing and holding hands, he'd have told you to fuck off. Yet, here he sat, content to just _be_ with Seth. All his problems forgotten for the brief time he had been here; no map, no stones, no lost city, no Hunter or Roman, no pain or hurt, no fear. Just Seth. 

And he was happy. 

The party went on well into the night, with Dean and Seth finally giving up and going to bed. 

“You can, uh, sleep on the bed...with me...you know, if you want.” Seth offers, but he sounds hesitant, unsure, like Dean might refuse and he won't know how to handle it if he does. He doesn't remember the last time he heard Seth sound so nervous, but he gives him a reassuring smile when he nods. 

When they've undressed enough to be comfortable to sleep, they slip under the covers and lay there on their backs like they both expected the other to make some sort of move. Dean knew this was another big step for Seth, and the fact that it came only a few days after Hunters assault was actually pretty commendable, but he was still wary to make any sort of move and risk him pulling away. 

It was Seth who finally caves and Dean feels him slip and arm around his waist and curl in close to his side, letting him pull him close. “I missed you.”

Dean lets his eyes close, comfortable and warm with Seth at his side. He doesn't expect Seths hand to start traveling down his chest, making it to just about the hemline of his t-shirt before Dean gently takes a hold of his hand. “Really, Seth?” 

“I want to, Dean.” He says and props himself up into his elbows do he was watch Dean's face in the dark. Dean opens his mouth to say something, tell Seth he doesn't have to prove anything, but the words are swallowed when Seth pushes forward and presses their lips together in a bruising kiss. “Please.” 

Dean gives in, despite his reservations about the whole thing. He's missed Seth, he's missed his hands on him when he wants to make him feel good and not coax him into a false sense of security, he misses the way he straddles his waist and kisses down his chest, he misses the sharp tug to his hair when he wants to suck at his neck, he misses all of it, all of Seth, the real Seth. He wants this, God how he's wanted to feel this close to the man on top of him again, feel the blood pumping in his ears and his heart hammering in his chest, feel the breaths on his skin. 

He moans out Seths name when he feels teeth graze against his collarbone, his cock already so hard in his boxers. With Seth grinding down on him with his own hard dick, he knows neither one of them is going to last long. He lets Seth dictate the pace, let's him do what he wants because he knows this is hard for him despite his eagerness to show otherwise. 

A hand trails down his chest and finds it's way into his boxers, nimble fingers wrapping themselves around him and Dean gasps into Seth's mouth when he's assaulted by another bruising kiss. When Dean tries to reciprocate, everything stops. Seth is still as a statue on top of him and Dean immediately lets go. Next thing he knows, Seths head is buried in his shoulder, body shaking with the sobs that had now taken over. 

“Seth, hey, shhhh…” he tries, rubbing his back as soothingly as he can, but Seth is still crying and Dean doesn't really know what to do. “It's ok, it's ok...you're ok.” 

“No, I'm not!” He cries, voice muffled by Dean's shoulder. He sits up to look him in the eye. “I'm not ok! I thought I could...I want to feel close to you again and I can't!” 

Dean has his arms around him in one quick motion, pulling him down to hug him close. “Seth, it's ok.”

“You should hate me so much, Dean.” He sobs. “What I did to you...I got what I deserved.”

Dean pushes him back to look him in the eye. “You listen and you listen good! No one - and I mean _no one_ \- deserves that. Do you understand me?” 

“He broke me.” Seth whispers, looking away to anything that wasn't Dean. “I can't even do this one thing for you. The only thing I'm fucking good at and I can't do it.”

“Seth, having sex with you isn't going to change anything I said this morning.” He says, wiping away a stray tear from Seth's cheek with his thumb. “He didn't break you. No one breaks you. You're strong, you've always been stronger than anyone I've ever met.”

Seth huffs out a laugh and slumps back against him, again lets Dean wrap his arms around him tightly. “We’re going to take them down, right? Make them pay?” 

“Yes.” He answers, resolute. “We’re going to make them pay.”

He feels the sigh of relief escape Seth and smiles when he feels tapping against his shoulder. 

_Together?_

“Yeah, together.”


	15. Chapter 15

Aruba is a tourist trap full of honeymooning couples and teenagers on spring break. It's not hard to see why, especially if you stay on one of those overpriced, all inclusive resorts that have your every want and whim taken care of. Plus, it's warm and sunny, blue tropical waters as far as the eye can see, white sand beaches, and enough of “adventure” to keep those outdoorsy types busy. 

Dean hates it. It's got nothing to offer except that vacation feel. Seth, on the other hand, seems to be right at home. He says he got the sunglasses from Enzo when they left, sleek aviators that really worked for him, and Dean can't help but smile. Slowly but surely, he looked so much more like himself, right down to the white button up Cass offered him that was definitely a few sizes too big, but worked with how he kept it open and rolled at the sleeves. He honestly looked like he belonged on an island like this. Dean, however, opted to just wash the clothes he already owned, not really looking to impress. 

They'd taken one of the more shady flights out of Brazil, ones that don't check passports or IDs, and landed safely on the island in one piece. A win in Dean's book considering all the shit that had been going wrong these last few weeks, but the day was still young. The only other mode of transportation they could manage to talk themselves on was a tourist shuttle heading toward the opposite coast. He didn't know exactly where Regal would be, but Aruba wasn't exactly large at just under 70 square miles. 

So, posing as newlyweds who'd forgotten their reservation slip - not that the overly exasperated bus driver really cared - they took seats toward the back of the bus and tried to lay low, even if Seth did interlace their fingers and lean close against him. 

“So, you two married?” A perky blonde in the seat in front of them asks with a high pitched voice that Dean instantly found grating. She's pretty, in a midwest housewife sort of way, and her hair color is definitely bottle blonde, but she smiles warmly at them and seems to genuinely just want to talk. She wasn't alone, what could have been her husband was snoring lightly at her side, doing everything he could to try and tune out. 

Dean had every intention of telling her no, that he and Seth weren't married, or even together really, he wasn't exactly sure what they were at this point. Seth, however, beat him to the punch about a half a second before Dean could open his mouth. 

“Just got hitched a few days ago!” He says to to Dean's utter surprise, beaming a huge smile at her that she seemingly couldn't help but reciprocate. “I wanted to get married here, but this big lugs family was having none of it. So we're honeymooning here instead.”

“That is so sweet!” She laughs. “I'm Janet, by the way! This lump next to me is Robert. We're celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary!” And she holds out her hand for Seth to shake. 

He does, with the fakest smile he'd ever seen on his face and gives her their alias’. “I'm Tyler, this is Jon.”

“Nice to meet you two!” She laughs and Dean can now hear that southern twang in her voice. His Midwest assumption was probably wrong. “Where did you two meet?”

Seth talks to this woman like they were old friends, chit chatting away about life at some coffee shop somewhere. He weaves this intricate story about how they had met at a bar, how Seth was dragged out by his friends on a night when he was studying for his college finals, how he'd seen Dean sitting there all by himself and just had to go talk to the handsome stranger. It was all complete bullshit, but she laughs right along with him and he playfully nudges Dean at all the right times, until she finally tells them to enjoy their honeymoon and leaves them alone. Seth smiles at Dean's amused face and kisses him lightly on the cheek. 

“Studying for finals, Seth? Really?” 

“Well, ‘knocked me over while he was running from a secret organization in front of my pimp’ just doesn't have the same ring to it.” He answers and A laugh escapes Dean's throat. “Besides, I always wanted to go to college, it just wasn't in the cards.”

He's a little surprised at the admission. Seth has always been smart, one of the smartest men Dean has ever known, but he never seemed like the college type. Seth, for as long as he's known him, was more of the live-in-the-moment type; adventure was what he craved. He couldn't see him in a dusty classroom with his nose in a book, studying all the things he's already done. Him and Dean were very much alike in that respect. Guess he didn't know as much about Seth as he thought.

The bus stopped at one of those all inclusive resorts, and people filed out, including Janet and Robert. They could stay on the bus, see where it goes, but maybe this was as good a place as any to start. It was easy to slip past the front desk with the crowd gathering there to check in, and the two of them stepped out into the pool area. It huge, spanning over a large area with smaller grottos and activity areas, fake palm trees, more than one swim up bar, and a buffet table poolside so large it might as well have its own zip code.

Dean hated it.

“Why did you never take me to a place like this?” Seth asks, probably kidding. Maybe. 

He doesn't wait for an answer to his rhetorical question and makes a beeline for the buffet table. Neither one of them had really eaten much since before the ship, and they were already here, so why not take advantage of the ludicrously large assortment? No one questions them, assuming they were guests just enjoying the perks of the resort. He piles his plate with fruit and veggies, cake and some sort of pasta, salad and a hamburger. Dean knows he won't eat all of that, and would probably be puking before long if he tried, but let Seth have his fun. He went the more sensible route, opting for a sandwich and some French fries. 

He let Seth pick the table and he plants himself right at the edge of the beach under a cabana that was just enough to obscure them but where they were still able to see everything around them, just in case. It’s only topped when a very nice waiter offers to bring them margaritas and they both enthusiastically agree.

They sit in comfortable silence while they eat, however, as nice as this was, they weren't here for vacation. “So, what's the plan?” Seth asks through a mouthful of food. 

All Dean can really do is shrug his answer, because in all honesty, he had absolutely no idea where to start. Little did he know, his answer would fall right into his lap, almost literally. The bump to his chair was enough to knock the food off his fork and he turned quickly to see who had knocked into him. 

“Sorry, Dude!”

“Regal?”

Oh, it was him alright, he’d know that face anywhere, that british accent, that...wait, was he wearing a hawaiian shirt? Were those board shorts? Why the hell was he wearing socks and sandals? Did he just call Dean _Dude_?

Regal apparently mirrored his shock. “Dean? What are you doing here?”

Dean was on his feet with his arms around his mentor before he could stop himself. But Regal wasn't hugging him back. In fact, he just stood there with his hands at his sides until Dean let go. “It's good to see you, Will.”

“Naw, that's not my name now.” Regal says with a sideways grin. “They call me Reg! It's, like, totally my identity now.”

Dean narrows his eyes at his former mentor and takes a step back. He felt Seth at his side, hands on his hips like he was trying to figure out the man smiling like an idiot in front of them. “Is this him, Dean? Some washed up old surfer wannabe?”

Regal snorts a laugh, one so unlike him. “Wannabe? I'll have you know I've cruised these waves for five years now, man. Don't be harsh if my vibe, dude!” Then he takes a moment and looks seth over. “Wait, aren't you that prostitute that used to hang out outside the Authority building?”

Dean just manages to catch Seth before he lunges at Regal. “Look, _dude_ , I need your help. I need the old Regal to look at-”

“No way, man!” Regal snaps. “I can't risk my Karma and my oneness with the ocean! My calling is the sea! I don't deal in heinous vibes and bogus endeavors! I hang ten and catch gnarly foam, dude. That's my small speck in this universe.”

“Is he speaking English?” Seth asks and Dean can only shrug his answer. 

“So, you can take your Betty and beat it, Ambrose!” And Regal turns to walk toward the beach.

Again Dean had to hold Seth back. Before he could let Regal walk away, he called after him. “I found the map and two of the stones.”

William Regal froze in his tracks, back tense and hands clenched at his sides. His eyes were narrowed when he turns to face Dean and Seth again. “What?”

“I found them, two of the three.” He continues. “We ran into some trouble and I lost your journal. I need your help.” Then, just to drive his point home. “Please.”

“I left you those things so I wouldn't have to deal with them anymore Dean.” Regal says and it genuinely surprises him. “It's brought me nothing but trouble!” 

He feels Seths hand on his arm as a silent reassurance that doesn't nothing to really quell the hurt that statement caused. Yes, Dean was aware that this mission they were on was dangerous, he'd had nothing but trouble and heartache since he found that stupid map. But to hear Regal say it, to understand that he would rather Dean, his friend and student, deal with the pain, it was like a blow to the gut that drove all the air from his lungs. Regal was the only father he ever knew, and he willingly threw him to the wolves. 

“I'm sorry, I can't help you.” Regal adds, and he doesn't seem to really mean it. 

He's too shocked to say anything else, standing there in bewildered silence as Regal turns away again. He was prepared to let him go, to give up, to just run away somewhere and forget everything, but it's Seth that brings him back, calling after Regal like only he could. “So that's it? That's how you feel about him? You're just gonna toss him aside when he needs you the most?”

Regal turns again, eyeing Seth like he can't believe someone would have the balls to continue this foolish game. “What do you know about it, man?”

Seth crosses his arms over his chest. “Enough.”

“Enough?” Regal snorts and somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean notes that he has dropped that stupid surfer accent. “I get the feeling that you know absolutely nothing. Who even are you?”

“Who I am isn't important.” Seth says and that takes Dean by surprise too. “ _You_ are the only one who can help us. You think the Authority doesn't know where you are? They will come for you next and this little island paradise you've set up for yourself, whatever it is, will be gone.”

“I've covered my tracks.” Regal counters, voice getting more and more heated. “They'll never find me.”

“I can assure you, they will.”

“And how exactly do you know that? You working for them?”

“Honey, you know nothing of what's been going on the past five years, do you?” 

Regal and Seth stare each other down in a battle of wills Dean hasn't seen out of either of them in years. Seth, with a smug look on his face, smirking at the fuming William Regal for a long time while he waited for the older man to make his next move. Then, in an instant, Regals shoulders drop and he sighs in defeat. “Fine.”

“Really?”

“On the condition that you leave me be after. I want nothing to do with El Dorado anymore.”

Seths hand grabbing his arm makes Dean jump. It was so sudden and hard that he was sure there would be bruises. When he looks at him to say something, Seth's attention isn't on him, but behind him. He looks terrified, eyes wide with fear at whatever his gaze was locked on. When Dean turns to see what it was he was so scared of, he gasps. 

There, pointing in their direction, were four men in suits. They had to be Authority, no question. Standing with them, barking orders, was none other than his former best friend and current traitor, Roman Reigns.

Dean grabs Regal by the arm and starts pulling him in the opposite direction. “We gotta go.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It’s been a year! Nobody panic...here’s an update. I hope you like it.

Roman does not look happy when he spots them. Dean would even go so far as to say he looked down right livid. Not that he cared, but the Samoan wasn’t exactly levelheaded when he was angry and that could mean someone could get seriously hurt. That someone was probably the most expendable one between them. Seth. 

“They with you?” Regal asks and Dean answers by pulling him along harder towards a building off to the side. At the very least they might be able to lose their tails and find a place to hide. 

The resort is small and Roman has his men spread out to try and catch them. However, he’s not causing a scene, so maybe that could work to their advantage. He runs quickly, William Regal at his side. As soon as he turns a corner, there's one of Romans men. “Hey! Stop!”

Like Dean would listen. He turns and starts running in the opposite direction, right into another set of men. They were fucking surrounded! Regal points to a set of surfboards stacked up like a fence. “Over there! We can regroup and make it to the kitchens. He follows after him, running as he can hear Romans men barking at each other to follow. Seth is close behind them, but not as close as Dean would like. He turns around just as Seth slows himself to a stop. “What are you doing, let's go!” 

“They’re just going to keep following us.” 

He knows where this is going and he reaches for Seth's arm, which is immediately pulled away. “Seth, don’t you dare. I just fucking got you back!”

“I can throw them off, Dean!”

He shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not your decision to make.” then seth takes a deep breath and smiles at him. He steps up and gently takes Deans face in his hands, softly running his thumbs against his skin. “It’s been a good run, Dean. I fucked everything up for so long, I can buy you time. Take Regal and find the city. Let me do this for you.”

“Seth…”

Seth cuts him off by closing the distance between them and gently pressing their lips together. “I love you, ok? With all my heart.” Then he shoves Dean back. “No, get the hell outta here.”

He wants to protest, to grab Seth's hand and drag him along. He couldn't lose him again! But he can't say any more. Regal has now grabbed his arm and is pulling him in the opposite direction. He watches Seth as long as he can, eyes begging him not to do this, but Seth simply smiles at him and blows him a kiss. For all he knew, this would be the last time he ever saw Seth Rollins. A few weeks ago, he wouldn't have cared, but now it was like someone tearing his heart directly from his chest. Nothing mattered then, nothing. 

He loses sight of him a moment later, Regal having pulled him toward the kitchens of the resort even as Dean tried to pull back toward Seth. “Let go! He needs me!”

Regal stops and shoves Dean hard against a stainless steel refrigerator and has his finger in his face just like when he used to scold him so many times before. “You listen here! That man just gave up his life for you and you will honor him by doing what he asked, do you understand me?”

“You don't get it!”

“I don't need to get it! You came to find me so you could finish this foolish mission, so let's finish it.”

“They’ll _kill_ him!”

“Or they kill all of us. Who does that help?” Regal says and that seems to snap Dean out of it a little. “I’m sorry for him, ok? I’m sorry for everything. We need to go.”

Dean stares at him for a long second, angry tears stinging his eyes. Then he takes a deep breath and slowly nods. “O-ok...ok...lets, uh, let's go.”

“That's my boy.” Regal beams, though Dean doesn't feel any more then shit. 

According to William Regal, the resort was thankfully equipped with tunnels that lead directly to the airfield so that staff could bring supplies in without the tourists seeing them and ruining the illusion of an island paradise. He also stated that he had a pilot friend there with a small plane big enough for them. “He owes me a favor, he’ll take us where we need to go. First, I need to see the map.”

In the tunnels, he hands Regal the piece of parchment and a flashlight from his bag. The older man takes it and studies the fading etching as best he can. Deans mind isn't on the map though, his mind is on Seth. What happened to him? Did he manage to get away? Is he dead? Worstly, did they take him alive? None of the scenarios he’d make in his head sounded pleasant. 

“How could I have been so stupid.” Regal says suddenly with a grin on his face illuminated by the light of the flashlight in his hand. It gave him an otherworldly sort of look, like a manic clown with no makeup. “Of course it would be there!”

Dean steps behind Regal and looks over his shoulder. “The last piece?”

“The last piece is at the temple where you found the map! It’s so easy! You’ve already been there, so we can just-”

“Yeah...about that…”

He looks up at Dean. “You didn’t.”

“Technically, no. My guide did. The place is a pile of rubble by now.” 

“Goddammit Dean.” Regal sighs. “What have I always told you!”

That actually pisses him off more than anything. “Hey! You don't get to lecture me anymore! You’re the one who disappeared and left me with this shit storm like it was some sort of life or death mission. You're the one who sat your ass on a beach for five years while I continued your legacy. You know what? Now that I know where the piece is, you can just stay here and play surfer dude.” he starts walking away. “I don't need you anymore.” 

“Dean…”

“No! Do you know how many enemies i've made? How many times i've been injured? ‘Course you don't. You didnt care then, so I don’t care now.”

“I’m sorry, ok?” Regal says suddenly and Dean stops walking, though he doesn’t turn back just yet. “It was foolish of me to just leave you. I panicked, got scared. The Authority was starting to sniff me out and I couldn't...I was a coward.”

“I thought you were dead.” Dean grits out between his teeth, but there's no real anger behind it, not like before. “You were the only father I ever had.”

Regal takes a breath and steps up to Dean, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

There’s no point in holding a grudge right now, he needs Regal even if he like to pretend he doesn’t. “Let’s...let’s just go.”

The tunnels are long, but it’s bearable now that their dirty laundry has been aired. At least it’s simply a straight line directly to the airstrip. Once they exit and are out in the sunlight, it’s like everything has changed. Again his thoughts turn to Seth, wondering what would become of him. Would Hunter keep him alive? That might be a fate worse than death. He takes a breath and looks back at Regal chatting away with his pilot friend. 

An idea hits him and he walks toward a young woman sitting at a desk. She looks to be some sort of receptionist. He simply asks her if he can use her phone. 

“Surely, sir.” And she turns it toward him.

He picks up the receiver and dials a practiced number. His heart is beating out of his chest as it rings. This is a bad idea, he knows that.

The receiver clicks and before the person on the other end of the line answers, Dean beats him to it. “Roman. Tell Hunter I want to make a deal.”


End file.
